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THE LIFE 

OP 

GEORGE WASHINGTON; 

WITH 

CURIOUS ANECDOTES, 

HA. 

EQUALLY HONOURABLE TO HIMSELF, {o 6^f 

AND 

EXEMPLARY TO HIS YOUNG COUNTRYMEN. 



A life how useful to his country led 1 
How loved while living! how revered now dead I 
Lisp! lisp his name, ye children yet unborn! 
And with like deeds your own great names adorn. 



BY M. L. WEEMS, 

FORMERLY RECTOR OP MOUNT VERNON PARISH. 



The author has treated this great subject with admirable "suc<3fess in a new 
way. He turns all the actions of Washington to the encouragement of virtue 
by a careful application of numerous exemplifications drawn from the conduct 
of the founder of our Republic from his earliest life." — H. Lee, Maj«r General,' 
U. S. Army. 



PHILADELPHIA : 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 

18C0. 






copy RIGHT SECURED ACfORDlNa TO i,AW. 

/ 



THE LIFE 



OF 



WASHINGTON 



CHAPTER I. 

Oh ! as along the stream of time thy name 
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame ; 
May then these lines to future days descend, 
And prove thy country's good thine only end ! 

"Ah, gentlemen !" — exclaimed Bonaparte — 'twas 
just as he was about to embark for Egypt — some 
young Americans happening at Toulon, and anxious 
to see the mighty Corsican, had obtained, tlie honour 
of an introduction to him. Scarcely were past tiie 
customary salutations, when he eagerly asked, " how 
faresyourcountryman,the great Washington?" "He 
was very well,'* replied, the youths, brightenmg at the 
thought, that they were the countrymen of Washing- 
ton ; "he was very well, general, when we left Ame- 
rica." — " Ah, gentlemen !" rejoined he, " Washington 
can never be otherwise than well. — The measure of 
his fame is full. — Posterity will talk of him with re- 
verence as the founder of a great empire, when my 
name shall be lost in the vortex of Revolutions !" 

Who, then, that has a spark of virtuous curiosity, 

but must wish to know the history of him whose 

name could thus awaken the sigh even of Bonaparte? 

But is not his history alreadv known ? Have not a 

1*' 



6 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

tiiousand orators spread his fame abroad, bright as 
his own Potomac, when lie reflects the morning sun, 
and flames hke a sea of Uqnid gold, the wonder and 
dehght of all the neighbouring shores ? Yes, thev 
have indeed spread his fame abroad. . . . his fame as 
Generalissimo of tlie armies, and first President of 
the councils of iiis nation. But this is not half his 

fame True, lie has been seen in greatness : but it is 

only the greatness of public character, which is no 
evidence of true greatness ; for a public character is 
often an artificial one. At the head of an army or 
nation, where gold and glory are at stake, and where 
a man feels himself the burning focus of unnum- 
bered eyes ; he must be a paltry fellow, indeed, w ho 
does not play his part pretty handsomely. . . . even the 
common passions of pride, avarice, or ambition, will 
put him up to his mettle, and call forth his best and 
bravest doings. But let this heat and blaze of public 
situation and incitement be withdrawn ; let him be 
thrust back into the shade of private life ; and you 
shall see how soon, like a forced plant robbed of its 
hot-bed, he will drop his false foliage and fruit, and 
stand forth confessed in native stickweed sterility 
and worthlessness. — There was Benedict Arnold — 
while strutting a brigadier general on the public 
state, he could play you the great man, on a handsome 

scale he out-marched Hannibal, and out-fought 

Burgoyne he chased the British like curlews, or 

cooped them up like chickens ! and yet in the private 
v/alks of life, in Philadelphia, he could swindle rum 
from the commissary's stores, and, with the aid of 
loose women, retail it by the gill ! ! — And there was 
the great duke of Marlborough too — his public cha- 
racter, a thunderbolt in war ! Britian's boast, and the 
terror of the French ! But his private character, 
what? Why a swindler to whom Arnold's self could 
hold a candle; a perfect nondescript of baseness; a 
shaver of farthings from the poor sixpenny pay o^ 
his own brave soldiers ! ! 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 7 

It is not, then, in the glare of public, but in the 
shade of private life, that we are to look for the man. 
Private life, is always real life. Behind the curtain^ 
where the eyes of the million are not upon him, and 
where a man can have no motive but inclination, no 
incitement but honest nature, there he will always 
be sure to act himself : consequently, if he act greatly, 
he must be great indeed. Hence it has been justly 
said, that, " our private deeds, if noble, are noblest of 
our lives." 

Of these private de'eds of Washington very little 
has been said. In most of the elegant orations pro- 
nounced to his praise, you see nothing of Washing- 
ton below the clouds — nothing of Washington the 
dutiful son — the affectionate brother — the cheerful 
school-boy — the diligent surveyor — the neat drafts- 
man — the laborious farmer — the widow's husband — 
the orphan's father — the poor man's friend. No ! 
this is not the Washington you see ; 'tis only Wash- 
ington, the HERO, and the Demigod — Washington 
the sun-beam in council, or the storm in war. 

And in all the ensigns of character amidst which 
he is generally drawn, you see none that represent 
him what he really was, '' the jupiter Conservator," 
the friend and benefactor of men. Where's his bright 
ploughshare that he loved — or his wheat-crowned 
fields, waving in yellow ridges before the wanton 
breeze — or his hills whitened over with flocks — or 
his clover covered pastures spread with innumerous 
herds — or his neat-clad servants with songs rolling 
the heavy harvest before them? Such were the scenes 
of peace, plenty, and happiness, h. which W^ashington 
delighted. But his eulogists have denied him these, 
the only scenes which belong to man the great ; 
and have trick'd him up in the vile drapery of man 
tlie httle. See ! there he stands ! with the port of 
Mars " the destroyer," dark frowning over the fields 
of war — the lightning of Potter's blade is by his side 
— tlie deep-mouthed cannon is before him, disgorg- 

1* 



B LITE OF WASHINGTON. 

ing its flosh-maiigliiig balls — his war-horse pants 
with impatience to bear him, a speedy thunderbolt, 
against the pale and bleeding ranks of Britain ! — 
These are the drawings usually given of Washington; 
drawings masterly no doubt, and perhaps justly 
descriptive of him in some scenes of his life. But 
scenes the}" were, which I am sure his soul abhorred, 
and in which, at any rate, you see nothing of his 
private virtues. These old fashioned commodities 
are generally thrown into the back ground of the 
picture; and treated, as the grandees at the London 
and Paris routs, treat their good old aunts and grand- 
mothers, huddling them together into the back rooms, 
there to wheeze and cough by themselves, and not 
depress the fine laudanum-raised spirits of the young 
sparklers. And yet it was to those old fashioned vir- 
tues that our hero owed every thing. For they in 
fact were the food of the great actions of him, whom 
men call Washington. It was they that enabled him, 
first to triumph over himself; then over the British; 
and uniformly to set such bright examples of human 
perfectibility and true greatness,that, compared there- 
with, the history of his capturing Cornwallis and 
Tarleton, v/ith their buccaneering legions, sounds 
almost as small as the story of General Putnam's 
catching Ids wolf and her lamb-killing whelps. 

Since then it is the private virtues that lay the 
foundation of all human excellence — since it was 
these that exalted Washington to be ^' Columbia's 
firet and greatest Son," be it our first care to present 
these, in ail their lustre, before the admiring eyes 
of our children. To them his private character is 
every thing ; his public, hardly any thing. For how 
glorious soever it may have been in Washington to 
have undertaken the emancipation of his country ; 
to have stemmed the long tide of adversity ; to have 
baffled every effort of a wealthy and warlike nation; 
to have obtained for his countrymen the completest 
victory, and for himself the most unbounded power y 



LIFE OF WASHliNGTON. d 

and then to have returned that power, accompanied 
With all the weight of his own great character and 
advice to establish a government that should immor- 
talize the blessings of liberty — however glorious, 1 
say, all this may have been to himself, or instructive 
to future generals and presidents, yet does it but 
little concern our children. For who among us can 
hope that his son shall ever be called, like Washing- 
ton, to direct the storm of war, or to ravish the ears 
of deeply listening Senates ? To be constantly placing 
him then, before our children, in this high character, 
what is it but like springing in the clouds a golden 
Phoenix, which no mortal calibre can ever hope to 
reach ? Or like setting pictures of the Mammoth 
before the mice, whom "not all the manna of Heaven" 
can ever raise to equality ? Oh no ! give us his pri- 
vate virtues ! In these, every youth is interested, be- 
cause in these every youth may become a Washing- 
ton — a Washington in piety and ]>atriotism, — in in- 
dustry and honour— and consequently a Washington, 
in what alone deserves the name, self esteem and 

UNIVERSAL RESPECT. 



CHAPTER II. 

BIRTH AND EDUCATION. 

•* Children like tender osiers take the bow ; 
" And as they first are form'd, forever grow." 

To this day numbers of good Christians can hardly 
find faith to believe that Washington was, bona fide, 
a Virginian ! " What ! a buckskin ! say they with a 
smile. " George Washington a buckskin ! pshaw ! 
impossible ! he was certainly an European : So 
great a man could never have been born m America." 

So great a man could never liave been born in 



!() IJFE OF WASHINGTON. 

America ! — why that's the very prince of reasons 
why lie should iiave been born here ! Nature, wc 
know, is fond of harmonies ; and paria paribus, that 
is, great tilings to great, is the rule she dehghts to 
work by. Where, for example, do we look for the 
whale, " the biggest born of nature ?" not, 1 trow, in 
a mill-pond, but in the main ocean. " There go the 
great ships :" and there are the spoiitings of whales 
amidst their boiling foam. 

By the same rufe, where shall we look for W^ash- 
ington, tlie greatest among men, but in America — 
that greatest Continent, which, rising from beneath 
the frozen pole, stretches far and wide to the south, 
running almost " the whole length of tliis vast terrene,'^ 
and sustaining on her ample sides the roaring shock 
of half the watery globe ? And equal to its size is the 
furniture of this vast continent, where the Almighty 
has reared his cloud-capt mountains, and spread his 
sea-like lakes, and poured iiis mighty rivers, and 
hurled down his thundering cataracts in a style of 
the sublime, so far superior to any thing of the kind 
in the other continents, that we may fairly conclude 
that great men and great deeds are designed for 
America. 

This seems to be the verdict of honest analogy ; 
and .accordingly we find America the honoured cra- 
dle of Washington, who was born on Pope's creek, 
in Westmoreland county, Virginia, the 22nd of Feb- 
ruary, 1732. His father, whose name was Augustin 
Washington, was also a Virginian : but his grand- 
fatlier (John) w^as an Englishman, who came over 
and settled in Virginia in 1657. 

His father, fully persuaded that a marriage of 
virtuous love comes nearest to angelic life, early 
stepped up to the altar with glowing cheeks and joy 
r^parkling eyes, while by his side with soft warm 
hand, sweetly trembling in his, stood the angel-form 
rf the lovely JNliss Dandridge. 

After several years of great domestic happiness 



LIFE OF VVxlSHINGTOxN. 1 

Mr Washington was separated by death from this 
excellent woman, who left him and two children to 
lament her early fate. 

Fully persuaded still, that "it is not good for man 
to be alone," he renewed, for the second time, the 
chaste delights of matrimonial love. His consort 
was Miss Mary Ball, a young lady of fortune, and 
descended from one of the best families in Virginia. 

From his intermarriage with this charming girl, it 
would appear that our hero's father must have pos- 
sessed either a very pleasing person, or highly 
polished manners, or perhaps both ; for, from whcL 
1 can learn, he was at that time at least forty years 
old ! while she, on the other hand, was universally 
toasted as the belle of the Northern Neck, and in the 
full bloom and freshness of love-inspiring sixteen. 
This I have from one who tells me that he has carried 
down many a sett dance with her; I mean that 
amiable and pleasant old gentleman, John Fitzhugh, 
Esq. of Stafford, who was, all his life, a neighbour 
and intimate of the Washington family. By his first 
wife, Mr. Washinglon had two children, both sons 
— Lawrence and Augustin. By his second wife, he 
had five children, four sons and a daughter — George, 
Samuel, John, Charles, and Elizabeth. Those over 
delicate folk, who are ready to faint at thought of a 
second marriage, might do well to remember, that 
the greatest man that ever lived was the son of this 
second marriage. 

Little George had scarcely attained his fifth year, 
when his father left Pope's creek, and came up to a 
plantation which he had in Stafford, opposite to 
Fredericksburg. The house in which he lived is 
still to be seen. It lifts its low and modest front of 
faded red, over the turbid waters of Rappahannock ; 
whither, to this day, numbers of people repair, and, 
with emotions unutterable, looking at the weather- 
beaten mansion, exclaim, " Here's the house where 
the great Washington was born '" 



12 JJFE OF WASHINGTON. 

But it is all a mistake ; for ho was born, as I said, 
at Pope's creek, in Westmoreland county-, near the 
margin of his own roaring Potomac. 

The firct place of education to which George was 
ever s'ent, was a little <^ old field school," kept by one 
of his father's tenants, named Hobby; an honest, poor 
old man, who acted in the double character of sexton 
and schoolmaster. On his skill as a grave-digger, 
tradition is silent; but for a teacher of youth, his 
qualifications were certainly of the humbler sort ; 
making what is generally called an A. 13. C, sciiool- 
master. Such was the preceptor who first taught 
Washington the knowledge of letters ! Hobby lived 
to see his young pupil in all his glory, and rejoiced 
exceedingly. In his cups — for though a sexton, he 
would sometimes drink, particularly on the General's 
birth days — he used to boast that " 'twas he, who, 
between his keees, had laid the foundation of George 
Washington's greatness." 

But though George was early sent to a school- 
master, yet he was not on that account neglected by 
his father. Deeply sensible of the loveliness and 
worth of which human nature is capable, through 
the virtues and graces early implanted in the heart, 
he never for a moment, lost sight of George in those 
all-important respects. 

To assist his son to overcome that selfish spirit, 
which too often leads children to fret and fight about 
trifles, was a notable care of Mr. Washington. For 
♦his purpose, of all the presents, such as cakes, fruit, 
&c. he received, he was always desired to give a liberal 
part to his play-mates. To enable him to do this 
with more alacrity, his father would remind him of 
the love which he would thereby gain, and the 
frequent presents which would in return be made to 
him ; and also would tell of that great and good God, 
who delights above all things to see children love 
Due another, and will assuredly reward them fi^r 
Jicting so amiable a part. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON 13 

Some idea of Mr. Wasbinglon's plan of education 
ill tiiis respect, may be collected from the following 
anecdote, related to me twenty years ago by an aged 
lady, who was a distant relative, and, when a girl, 
spent much of her time in the family : 

" On a fine morning," said she, " in the fall of 1 737, 
Mr. Washington having little George by the hand, 
came to the door and asked my cousin Washington 
and myself to walk with him to the orchard, promis- 
ing he would show us a fine sight. On arriving at 
th(i orchard, we were presented with a fine sight 
indeed. The whole earth, as far as we could see, 
was strewed with fruit : and yet the trees were 
bending under the weight of apples, which hung in 
clusters like grapes, and vainly strove to hide their 
blushing cheeks behind the green leaves. Now, 
George, said his father, look here, my son ! don't you 
remember when this good cousin of yours brought 
you that fine large apple last spring, how hardly 1 
could prevail on you to divide with your brothers 
and sisters ; though I promised you that if you would 
but do it, God Almighty would give you plenty of 
apples this fall. Poor George could not say a word ; 
but hanging down his head, looked quite confused, 
while with his little naked toes he scratched in the soft 
ground. Now look up, my son, continued his father, 
look up, George ! and see there how richly the blessed 
God has made good my promise to you. Wherever 
you turn your eyes, you see the trees loaded with fine 
fruit; many of them indeed breaking down; while 
the ground is covered with mellow apples, more than 
ycu could eat, my son, in all your hfe time." 

George looked in silence on the wide wilderness 
of fruit. He marked the busy humming bees, and 
heard the gay notes of birds ; then lifting his eyes, 
filled with shining moisture, to his father, he softly 
said, " Well, Pa, only forgive me this time ; and see 
if I ever be so stingy any more." 

Some, when they look ud to the oak, whose giant 



!4 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

arms throw a darkening shade over distant acres, oi 
whose single trunk lays the keei of a man of war, 
cannot bear to hear of the time when this mighty 
plant was but an acorn, which a pig could hove de- 
molished. But others, who know their value, like to 
learn the soil and situation which best produces such 
noble trees. Thus, parents that are wise, will listen, 
well pleased, while I relate how moved the steps of 
the youthful Washington, whose single worth far 
outweighs all the oaks of Bashan and the red spicy 
cedars of Lebanon. Yes, they will listen delighted 
while I tell of their Washington in the days of his 
youth, when his little feet were swift towards the 
nests of birds; or when, wearied in the chase of the 
butterfly, he laid him down on his grassy couch and 
slept, while ministering spirits, with their roseate 
wings, fanned his glowing cheeks, and kissed his lips 
of innocence with that fervent love which makes the 
Heaven ! 

Never did the wise Ulysses take more pains with 
his beloved Telemachus, than did Mr. Washington 
with George, to inspire him with an early love of 
truth. " Truth, George," said he, " is the loveliest 
quahty of youth. I would ride fifty miles, my son, 
to see the little boy whose heart is so honest, and his 
Ups so pure, that we may depend on every word he 
says. how lovely does such a child appear hi the 
eyes of every body ! his parents doat on him. His 
relations glory in him. They are constantly praising 
him to their children, whom they beg to imitate him. 
They are often sending for him to visit them ; and 
receive him, when he comes, with as much joy as if 
he were a little angel, come to set pretty examples 
to their children. 

" But, Oh ! how different, George, is the case witli 
the boy who is so given to lying, that nobody can 
believe a word he says ! He is looked at with aversion 
wherever he goes, and parents dread to see him come 
among their children. Oh, George! my son! rather 



LIFE OF WASHLNGTON. 15 

than see you come to this pass, dear as you are to my 
heart, gladly would I assist to nail you up in your 
little coffin, and follow you to your grave, flard, 
indeed, would it be to me to give up my son, whose 
little feet are always so ready to run about with me, 
and whose fondly looking eyes, and sweet prattle 
make so large a part of my happiness. But still 1 
would give him up, rather than see him a common 
liar." 

" Pa," said George very seriously, " do I ever tell 
lies?" 

"No, George, I thank God you do not, my son; 
and I rejoice in the hope you never will. At least, 
you shall never, from me, have cause to be guilty of 
so shameful a thing. Many parents, indeed, even 
compel their children to this vile practice, by barba 
rously beating them for every little fault : hence, on 
the next offence, the little terrified creature slips out 
a lie ! just to escape the rod. But as to yourself 
George, you know I have always told you, and now 
tell you again, that, whenever by accident, you do 
any thing wrong, which must often be the case, as you 
are but a poor little boy yet, without experience or 
knowledge, you must never tell a falsehood to conceal 
it; but come bravely up, my son, like a little man, 
and tell me of it : and, instead of beating you, George, 
I will but the more honour and love you for it, my 
dear." 

This, you'll say, was sowing good seed ! — Yes, it 
was : and the crop, thank God, was, as I believe it 
ever will be, where a man acts the true parent, that 
IS, the Guardian Angel, by his child. 

The following anecdote is a case in point. It is 
too valuable to be lost, and too true to be doubted ; 
for it was communicated to me by the same excellent 
(ady to whom I am indebted for the last. 

" When George," said she, " was about six years 
old, he was made ihe wealthy master of a hatchet ! 
of which, hke most Uttle boys, he was immoderately 



16 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

fond, and was constantly going about chopping every 
thing that came"in his way. One day, in the garden, 
where lie often amused himself hacking his mother's 
pea-sticks, he unluckily tried the edge of his hatchet 
on the body of a beautiful young English cherry-tree, 
which he barked so terribly, that I don't believe the 
tree ever got the better of it. The next morning the 
old gentleman, finding out what had befallen his tree, 
which, by the by, was a great favourite, came into 
the house ; and with much warmth asked for the 
mischievous author, declaring at the same time, that 
he would not have taken five guineas for his tree 
Nobody could tell him any thing about it. Presently 
George and his hatchet made their appearance. 
" George," said his father, '• do you know who killed 
that beautiful little cherry tree yonder in the garden ?" 
This was a tough question ; and George staggered 
under it for a moment : but quickly recovered him- 
self: and looking at his father, with the sweet face of 
youth brightened with the inexpressible charm of all- 
conquering truth, he bravely cried out, '^ I can't tell 
a lie. Pa; you know I can't tell a lie. 1 did cut it 
with my hatchet." — Run to my arms, you dearest 
boy, cried his father in transports, run to my arms • 
glad am I, George, that you killed my tree ; for you 
have paid me for it a thousand fold. Such an act of 
heroism in my son is more worth than a thousand 
trees, tiiough blossomed with silver, and their fruits 
of purest gold." 

It was in this way by interesting at once both his 
heart and head, that iVIr. Washington conducted 
George with great ease and pleasure along the happy 
paths of virtue. But well knowing that his beloved 
charge, soon to be a man, would be left exposed to 
numberless temptations, both from himself and from 
ethers, his heart throbbed with the tenderest anxiety 
to make him acquainted with that great being, whom 
to know and love, is to possess the surest defence 
against vice, and the best of all motives to virtuo and 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOIS. 17 

happiness. To startle George into a lively sense of 
his Maker, he fell upon the following very carious 
bat impressive expedient: 

One day he went into the garden, and prepared a 
little bed of finely pulverized earth, on which he 
wrote George's name at full, in large letters — then 
strewing in plenty of cabbage seed, he covered them 
up, and smoothed all over nicely with the roller. — ■ 
This bed he purposely prepared close along side of 
a gooseberry walk, which happening at this time to 
be well hung with ripe fruit, he knew would be ho- 
noured with George's visits pretty regularly every 
day. Not many mornings had passed away before 
in came George, with eyes wild rolling, and his little 
cheeks ready to burst with great news. 

" Pa! come here ! come here !" 

" What's the matter, my son ? what's the matter ?" 

" O come here, 1 tell you, Pa : come here ! and Pll 
shew 3'ou such a sight as yoa never saw in all your 
life time." 

The old gentleman suspecting what George woald 
be at, gave him his haiid, which lie seized with great 
eagerness, and tugging him along through the garden, 
led liim point blank to the bed whereon was inscrib- 
ed, in large letters, and in all the fresiniess of newly 
sprang plants, the fall name of 

GEORGE WASHLNGTOxN. 

" Tiiere Pa?" said George, quite in an ecstacy of 
astonishment, " did you ever see sucli a sight in all 
your life time ?" 

'' Why it seems like a curious ail'nw, sure enoi'gli^ 
George !" 

"Bat, Pa, who did make it there f who did make 
It there?" 

" It grew there by chance, 1 suppose, my son." 

" By chance. Pa ! no ! no ! it never did grow 
here by chance, Pa. Indeed that it never did '" 

" High ! why not, my son ?" 
2* 



!» LIFP: OF WASHINGTON. 

" Why, Pa, did you ever see any body's name m a 
plant bed before ?'' 

" Well, but George, such a thmg might happen, 
though you never saw it before. 

"Yes, Pa; but I did never see the httle plants 
grow up so as to make one single letter of my name 
before. Now, how could they grow up so as to make 
all the letters of my name ! and tiien standing one 
after another, to spell my name so exactly ! — and all 
so neat and even too, at top and bottom I ! Pa, you 
must not say chance did all this. Indeed somebody 
did it ; and I dare say now, Pa, you did it just to 
scare me, because I am your little boy." 

His father smiled ; and said, "Well George, you 
have guessed right. I indeed did it ; but not to scare 
you, my son ; but to learn you a great tiling which I 
wish you to understand. I want, my son, to intro- 
duce you to your true Father." 

" High, Pa, an't you my true father, that lias loved 
me, and been so good to me always?" 

" Yes George, I am your father, as the world calls 
It : and I love you very dearly too. But yet with 
all my love for you, George, I am but a poor good- 
for-nothing sort of a father in comparison of one you 
have." 

" Aye ! I know, well enough whom you mean. Pa. 
/ou mean God Almighty ; don't you ?" 

" Yes, my son, I mean him indeed. He is your 
true Father, George." 

" But, Pa, where is God Almighty! I did never 
see him yet." 

" True my son ; but though you never saw him, 
yet he is always with you. You did not see me when 
ten days ago I made this little plant bed, where you 
see your name in such beautiful green letters : but 
though you did not see me here, yet you know I was 
here ! !" 

" Yes, Pa, that I do. I know you was here. ' 

"Well then, and as my son could not believe that 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON 19 

clmiice iiad made and put together so exactly tl <» 
.etters of Ids name, (though only sixteen) then liovv 
can he believe, that chance could have made and puv 
together all those millions and millions of things thai 
are now so exactly fitted to his good ! That my son 
may look at every thing around him, see ! what fine 
eyes he has got ! and a little pug nose to smell the 
sweet flowers! and pretty ears to hear sweet sounds! 
and a lovely mouth for his bread and batter! and 0, 
the little ivory teeth to cut it for him ! and the dear 
little tongue to prattle with his father ! and precious 
little hands and fingers to hold his play-things ! and 
beautiful little feet for him to run about upon ! and 
when my little rogue of a son is tired with running 
about, then the still niglit comes for him to He down : 
and his mother sings, and the little crickets chirp him 
to steep ! and as soon as he has slept enough, and 
jumps up fresh and strong as a little buck, there the 
sweet golden liglit is ready for iiim ! When he looks 
down into the water, there he sees the beautiful silver 
fishes for him ! and up in the trees there are the 
apples, and peaches, and thousands of sweet fruits 
for him ! and all, all around him, wherever my dear 
boy looks, he sees every thing just to his wants and 
wishes : — the bubbling springs with cool sweet water 
for him to drink ! and the wood to make him spark 
ling fires when he is cold ! and beautiful horses lor 
him to ride ! and strong oxen to work for him . and 
tlie good cow to give liim milk ! and bees to make 
sweet honey for his sweeter mouth! and the little 
Iambs, with snowy wool, for beautiful clothes for 
him ! Now, these and all the ten thousand thousand 
other good things more than my son can ever think 
of, and all so exactly fitted to his use and delight — 
Now how could chance ever have done all this for 
my little son ? Oh George ! — 

He would have gone on : but George, who had 
hung upon his fiither's words with looks and eyes of 
aM-devourins: attention, here broke out — ^.^ 



20 LIFP: of WASHINGTON. 

« Ob, Pa, that's enough ! that's enough ! It can't 
be chance, indeed — it can't be chance, that made and 
gave rne all tliese things." 

" What was it then, do you think, my son ?'^ 

" Indeed, Pa, 1 don't know unless it was God 
Almighty !" 

" Yes, George, he it was, my son, and nobody 
else." 

" Well, but Pa, (continued George) does God 
Almighty give me every thing ? Don't you give me 
some things, Pa?" 

" I give you something indeed ! Oh how can I 
give you any thing, George ! I who have nothing on 
earth that I can call my own, no, not even the breath 
I draw !" 

" High, Pa ! is'nt that great big house your house, 
and this garden, and the horses yonder, and oxen, 
and sheep, and trees, and every thin2:, is'nt all yours. 
Pa V 

" Oh no ! my son ! no ! why you make me shrink 
into nothing, George, when you talk of all these be- 
longing to me, who can't even make a grain of sand ! 
Oh, how could I, my son, have given life to those 
great oxen and horses, when I can't give life even to 
a fly ? — no ! for if the poorest fly were killed, it is not 
your father, George, nor all the men in the world, 
that could ever make him alive again !" 

At this, George fell into a profound silence, while 
his pensive looks showed that his youthful soul was 
labouring with some idea never felt before. Perhaps 
it was at that moment, that the good Spirit of God 
ingrafted on his heart that germ of piety, which 
filled his after life with so many of the precious fruits 
of morabty 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 21 



CHAPTER III. 

George's father dies — his education continued by his mother — hif 
behaviour under school-master WiUiams. 

Thus pleasantly, on wmgs of down, passed away 
the few short years of httle George's and his father's 
earthly acquaintance. Sweetly ruled by the sceptre of 
reason, George almost adored his father; and thus 
sweetly obeyed with all the cheerfulness of love, his 
father doated on George. And though very different 
in their years, yet parental and fihal love rendered 
them so mutually dear, that the old gentleman was 
often heard to regret, that the school took his little 
companion so much from him — while George, on the 
other hand, would often quit his playmates to run 
home and converse with his more beloved father. 

But George was not long to enjoy the pleasure or 
the profit of such a companion ; for scarcely had he 
attained his tenth year, before his father was seized 
with the gout in his stomach, which carried him off 
in a few days. George was not at home when his 
father was taken ill. He was on a visit to some of his 
cousins in Chotank, about twenty miles off: and his 
father, unwilling to interrupt his pleasures, (for it was 
but seldom that he visited) would not at first allow 
him to be sent for. But finding that he was going 
very fast, he begged that they would send for him in 
all haste. He often asked if he was come ; and said 
how happy he should be once more to see his little 
son, and give him his blessing before he died. But 
alas ! he never enjoyed that last mournful pleasure ; 
for George did not reach home until a few hours 
before his father's death : and then he was speechless ! 
The moment he alighted, he ran into the chamber 
where he lay. But oh ! what were his feelings 
when lie saw the sad ciiange that had passed upon 
jim ! when lie beheld lltose eyes, late so bright and 



22 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

fond, now reft of all then* lustre, faintly looking on 
him from their hollow sockets, and through swelling 
tears, in naite but melting language, bidding him a 

last, last farewell ! Rushing with sobs and cries, 

lie iell upon his father's neck he kissed him a 

thousand and a thousand times, and bathed his clay- 
cold face with scalding tears. 

happiest youth ! Happiest in that love, which 
thus, to its enamoured soul strained an aged, an 
expiring sire. ! worthiest to be the founder of a 
just and equal government lastin.g as thy own death- 
less name ! And ! happiest old man ! thus luxu- 
riously expiring in the arms of such a child ! ! well 
requited for teaching him that love of his God (the 
only fountain of every virtuous love) in return for 
which he gave thee ('twas all he had) himself — his 
fondest company — his sweetest looks and prattle. 
He now gives thee his Uttle feeble embraces. With 
artless sighs and tears, faithful to thee still, his feet 
will follow thee to thy grave : and when thy beloved 
corse is let down to the stones of the pit, with stream- 
ing eyes he will rush to the brink, to take one more 
look, while his bursting heart will give thee its last 
trembling cry my father ! my father ! 

But, though he had lost his best of friends, yet he 
never lost those divine sentiments which that friend 
had so carefully inculcated. On the contrary, inter- 
woven with the fibres of his heart, they seemed to 
•^grow with his growth, and to st'engthen with his 
strength." The memory of his father, often bathed 
Vv^ith a tear — the memory of his father, now sleeping 
m his grave, was felt to impose a more sacred obli- 
gation to do wliatever he knew would rejoice his 
departed sha-de. This was very happily displayed, 
in every part of his deportment, from tiie moment of 
liis earliest intercourse with mankind. 

Soon after the death of liis father, his mother sent 
hini down to Westmoreland, the place of his nativity, 
wliere he lived with his half-brother Augustine, and 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 23 

went to school to a Mr. Williams, an excellent teach- 
er in that neighboinhood. He carried with him his 
virtues, his zeal for unblemished character, his love of 
truth, and detestation of whatever was false and base. 
A gilt chariot with richest robes and liveried servants, 
could not half so substantially have befriended him; 
for in a very short time, so completely had his virtues 
secured the love and confidence of the boys, his word 
was just as current among them as a law. A very 
aged gentleman, formerly a school mate of his, has 
often assured me, (while pleasing recollection bright- 
ened his furrowed cheeks,) that nothing was more 
common, when the boys were in high dispute about 
a question of fact, than for some little shaver among 
the mimic heroes, to call out, " well boys ! George 
Washington was there : Goorge Washington was 
there. He knows all about it : and if he don't say it 
was so, then we will give it up." — " Done," said the 
adverse party. Then away they would trot to hunt 
for George. Soon as his verdict was heard, the paity 
favoured would begin to crow, and then all hands 
would return to play again. 

About five years after the death of his father, he 
quhted school for ever, leaving the boys in tears for 
his departure : for he had ever lived among them, in 
the spirit of a brother. He was never guilty of so 
brutish a practice as that of fighting himself; nor 
would he, when able to prevent it, allow them to fight 
one another. If he could not disarm their savage 
passions by his arguments, he would instantly go to 
the master, and inform him of their barbarous inten- 
tions. 

*' The boys," said the same good old gentleman, 
" were often angry with George for this." — But he 
used to say, '^ angry or not angry, you shall never, 
boys, have my consent to a practice so shocking ! 
shocking even in slaves and dogs ; then how utterly 
scandalous in little boys at school, who ought to look 
m one another as brothers. And what must be the 



«4 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

feelings of our tender parents, when, instead of seeing 
us come home smiling and lovely, as the joy of their 
hearts ' they see us creeping in hke young black- 
guards. With our heads bound up, black eyes, and 
bloody clothes ! And what is all this for ? Why, thai 
v/e may get praise ! ! But the truth is, a quarrelsome 
boy was never sincerely praised ! Big boys, of the 
vulgar sort, indeed may praise him : but it is only as 
they would a silly game cock, that fights for their 
pastime : and the little boys are sure to praise him, 
but it is only as they would a bull dog — to keep him 
from tearing them ! !'' 

Some of his historians have said, and many believe, 
that Washington was a Latin scholar! But 'tis an 
error. He never learned a syllable of Latin. His 
second and last teacher, Mr. Wilhams, was indeed a 
capital hand — but not at. Latin ; for of that h*^ under- 
stood perhaps as little as Balaam's ass. But at 
reading, spelling, English grammar, arithmetic, sur- 
veying, book keeping, and geography, he was indeed 
famous. And in these useful arts, 'tis said he often 
boasted that he had made young George Washington 
as great a scholar as himself 

Born to be a soldier, Washington early discovered 
symptoms of nature's intentions towards him. In 
his 11th year, while at school under old Mr. Hobby, 
he used to divide his play-mates into two parties or 
armies. One of these, lor distinction sake, v/as called 
French, the other American. A big boy at the school, 
named William Bustle, commanded the former ; 
George commanded the latter. And every day, at 
play-time, with corn-stalks for muskets, and cala- 
bashes for drums, the two armies would turn out, and 
march, and counter-march, and file otf or fight their 
mimic battles, with great fury. This was fine sport 
for George, v/hose passion for active exercise was so 
strong, that at play-time no weather could keep him 
within doors. His fair cousins, who visited at his 
mother's, used to complain, that " George was not 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 26 

fond of their company, like otiier boys ; but soon as 
ne had got his task, would run out to play." But 
such trifling play as marbles and tops he could never 
endure. They did not aflbrd him exercise enough. 
His delight was in that of the manliest sort, which, 
by stringing the limbs and swelling the m.uscles 
promotes the kindliest flow of blood and spirits. At 
jumping with a long pole, or heaving heavyweights, 
for his years he hardly had an equal. And as to 
running, the swift-footed Achilles could scarcely have 
matched his speed. 

" Egad ! he ran wonderfully," said my amiable 
and aged friend, John Fitzhugh,Esq., who knew him 
well. ^' We had nobody here-abouts, that could come 
near him. There was a young Langhorn Dade, of 
Westmoreland, a confounded clean made, tight young 
fellow, and a mighty swift runner too. But then he 
was no match for George. Langy, indeed, did not 
like to give it up ; and would brag that he had some- 
times brought George to a tie. But I believe he was 
mistaken : for I have seen them run together many a 
time ; and George always beat him easy enough." 

Col. Lewis Wilhs, his play-mate and kinsman, has 
been heard to say, that he has often seen him throw 
a stone across Rappahannock, at the lower ferry of 
Fredericksburg. It would be no easy matter matter 
to find a man, now a-days, who could do it. 

Indeed his father before him was a man of extra- 
ordinary strength. His gun, which to this day is 
called Washington's fowling-piece, and is now the 
property of Mr. Harry Fitzhugh, of Chotank, is of 
such enormous weight, that not one man in fifty can 
fire it without a rest. And yet throughout ^hat coun- 
try it is said, that he made nothing of holding it off 
at arms length, and blazing away at the swans on 
Potomac ; of which he has been known to kill, rank 
and file seven or eight at a shot. 

But to return to George. It appears that from the 
start he was a boy of an uncommonly warm and 



26 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

noble lieart ; insomucli tliat Lawrence, tliough bu' 
his half-brolher, look such a Uking to him, even above 
his own brother Augustine, that he would always 
have George with him when he could ; and often 
pressed him to come and live with him. But, as if led 
by some secret iff pulse, George declined the offer, and 
as we have seen, went to work in the back woods, as 
Lord Fairfax's surveyor ! However, when Lawrence 
was taken with the consumption, and advised by his 
physicians to make a trip to Bermuda, George could 
not resist any longer, but hastened down to his brother 
at Mount Vernon, and went with him to Bermuda 
It was at Bermuda that George took the small-pox, 
which marked him rather agreeably than otherwise. 
Lawrence never recovered, but returned to Virginia, 
\\here he died just after his brother George had 
fought his hard battle against the French and Indians, 
at Fort Necessity, as the reader will presently learn. 

Lawrence did not live to see George after that , 
but he lived to hear of his fame ; for as the French 
and Indians were at that time a great public terror, 
the people could not help being very loud in their 
praise of a youth, who, with so slender a force had 
dared to meet them in their own country, and had 
given them such a check. 

And when Lawrence heard of his favorite young 
brother, that he had fought so gallantly for his coun- 
try, and that the whole land was filled with his praise, 
he wept for joy. And such is the victory of love 
over nature, that though fast sinking under the fever 
and cough of a consumption in its extreme stage, he 
did not seem to mind it, but spent his last moments 
in fondly talking of his brother George, who, he said, 
" he had always believed, would one day or other be 
a great man ''' 

On openi g his will, it was found that George had 
lost nothing by his dutiful and atlectionate behaviour 
to his brother Lawrence. For having now no issue 
(his only child, a little daughter, lately dying) he iefl 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 27 

to George all his rich lands in Berkley, together with 
his great estate on Potomac, called Mount Vernon, 
in honour of old Admiral Vernon, by whom he haa 
been treated with great politeness, while a volunteer 
with him at the unfortunate siege of Carthagena, in 
1741. 



CHAPTER IV. 

George leaves school — is appointed a private surveyor to Lord Fair' 
fax, of the Northern Necli — wishes to enter on board of a British 
man of war — providentially prevented by his mother — the firs\ 
lightnings of his soul to war 

Happily for America, George Washington was 
not born with " a silver spoon in his mouth." The 
Rappahannock plaiitatation left him by his father, 
was only in reversion — and his mother was still in 
her prime. Seeing then no chance of ever rising in 
the world but by his own merit, on leaving school 
he went up to Fairfax to see his brother Lawience ; 
with whom he found Mr. Wilham Fairfax, one of 
the governor's council, who was come up on a visit 
to his sister, whom Lawrence had married. The 
counsellor presently took a great liking to George ; 
and hearing him express a wish to get employment 
as a surveyor, introduced him to his relative, lord 
Fairfax, the wealthy proprietor of all those lands ge- 
nerally called the Northern Neck, lying between the 
Potomac and Rappahannock, and extending from 
Smith's Point on the Chesapeake, to the foot of the 
Great Allegheny. At the instance of the counsellor, 
Lord Fairfax readily engaged George as a surveyor; 
and sent him up into the back-woods to work. He 
contitmed in hs lordship's service till his 20th year, 
closely pursuing the laborious Ufe of a woodsman. 

From the manner in which Washington chose to 

3 



28 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

amuse his leisure hours during this period, 1 ara 
almost iucUned to think that he had a presentiment 
of the great labours that lay before him. When in 
Frederick, which at that time was very large, con- 
taining the counties now called Berkley, Jefferson, 
and Shenandoah, he boarded in the house of the wi- 
dow Stevenson, generally pronounced Stinson. This 
lady had seven sons — William and Valentine Craw- 
ford, by her first husband ; and John, and Hugh, and 
Dick, and Jim, and Mark Stinson, by her last hus- 
band. These seven young men, in Herculean size 
and strength, were equal, perhaps, to any seven sons 
of any one mother in Christendom. This was a 
family exactly to George's mind, because promising 
him an abundance of that manly exercise in which 
he delighted. In front of the house lay a fine ex- 
tended green, with a square of several hundred yards. 
Here it was every evening, when his daily toils of 
surveying were ended, that George, like a young 
Greek training for the Olympic games, used to turn 
out with his sturdy young companions, " to see," as 
they termed it, " which was the best man," at run- 
ning, jumping, and wresthng. And so keen was 
their passion for these sports, and so great their am- 
bition to excel each other, that they would often 
persist, especially on moon-shining nights, till bed- 
time. The Crawfords and Stinsons, though not taller 
than George, were m.uch heavier men ; so that at 
wrestling, and particularly at the close or Indian hug, 
he seldom gained much matter of triumph. But in 
all trials of agility, they stood no chance with him' 
From these Frederick county gymnastics or exer 
cises, there followed an effect which shews the very 
wide difference between participating in innocent 
and guilty pleasures. While companions in raking 
and gambling, heartily despise and hate one another, 
and when they meet in the streets, pass each other 
with looks as cold and shy as sheep-thieving curs — 
these virtuous young men, by spending their even 



LiFE OF WASHINGTON. 29 

mgs together, in innocent and manly exercises, con- 
tracted a friendship which lasted for Ufe. When 
George, twenty-five years after this, was called to 
lead the American armies, he did not forget his old 
friends, the Stinsons and Crawfords ; but gave com- 
missions to all of diem who chose to join his army ; 
which several of them did. William Crawford, the 
eldest of them, and as brave a man as ever shoulder- 
ed a musket, was advanced as high as the rank of 
colonel, when he was burnt to death by the Indians 
at Sandusky. And equally cordial was the love of 
these young men towards George, of whom they 
always spoke as of a brother. Indeed, Hugh Stin- 
son, the second brother, who had a way of snapping 
his eyes when he talked of any thing that greatly 
pleased him, used to brighten up at the name of 
Washington ; and would tell his friends, that, " he 
and his brotlier John had often laid the conqueror of 
England, on his back ;" but at the same time, would 
agree, that, " in running and jumping they were no 
match for him." 

Such was the way in which George spent his 
leisure hours in the service of Lord Fairfax. Little 
did the old gentleman expect that he was educating 
a youth, who should one day dismember the British 
empire and break his own heart — which truly came 
to p9,r,s. For on hearing that Washington had cap- 
tured Cornwallis and all his army, he called out to 
his '^'ack waiter, " Come, Joe ! carry me to my bed ! 
fo»* f 'm sure 'tis high time for me to die !" 

Then up rose Joe, all at the word 

And took his master's arm, 
And to his bed he softly led, 

The lord of Green-way farm. 

There he call'd on Britain's name 

" And oft he wept full sore." — 
Then sigh'd — thy will, O Lord be done— 

" And woid spake never more." 



so LIFE OF WASHINGTON 

It was ill bis 15rh year, according to the best Ch 
my information, that Washington first felt the k'ind- 
lings of his soul for war. Tiie cause was this — In 
those days the people of Virginia looked on Grea^ 
Britain as the mother country ; and to go thither was, 
in common phrase, " to go home.'^ The name of old 
England was music in their ears : and the bare men- 
tion of a blow meditated against her, never failed to 
rouse a something at the heart, which instantly flam- 
ed on the cheek, and flashed in the eye. Washington 
had his full siiare of these virtuous feelings : on hear- 
ing, tlierefore, that France and Spain Avere mustering 
a black cloud over his mother country, his youth- 
ful blood took fire ; and he instantly tendered what 
aid his little arm could afford. The rank of mid- 
shipman was procured for him on board a British 
ship of war, then lying in our waters ; and his trunk 
and clothes were actually sent on board. But when 
he came to take leave of his mother, she wept bitter- 
ly, and told him, she felt that her heart would break 
if he left her. George immediately got his trunk 
ashore ! as he could not, for a moment, bear the idea 
of inflicting a wound on that dear life which had so 
long and so fondly sustained his own. 

Where George got his great military talents, is 
a question which none but the happy believers in a 
particular Providence can solve : certain it is, his 
earthly parents had no hand in it. For of his father, 
tradition says nothing, save that he was a most amia- 
ble old gentlemen ; one who made good crops, and 
scorned to give his name to the quill-drivers of a 
counting-room. And as to his mother, it- is well 
known that she was none of Bellona's fiery race. For 
as some of the Virginia officers, just after the splendid 
actions of Trenton and Prmceton, were compliment- 
ing her on the generalship and rising glory of her 
son, instead of shewing the exultation of a Spartan 
dame, she replied, v/ith all the sang froid of a good 
old Friend, " Ah, dear me ! This fighting and killing 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 31 

is a sad thing ! I wish George would come home and 
.ook after his plantartbn ! ! 

Nor does it appear that nature had mixed much 
of gunpowder in tlie composition of any of his bro- 
tliers; for when one of them, in tiie time of Brad- 
dock's war, wrote him a letter, signifying sometliing 
hke a wish to enter into the service ; George, it is 
said, gave him this short reply : " Brother, stay at 
home, and comfort your wife.'^ 

But though not destined to figure on the quarter- 
deck of a man of war, yet he ceased not to cultivate 
that talent which had been given for higher uses. 
From adjutant Muse, a Westmoreland volunteer, 
who had gained much credit in the war of Cuba, 
whence he had lately returned with Lawrence Wash- 
ington, he learnt to go through the manual exercise 
with great dexterity. By the help of good treatises 
on the art of war, which were put into his hands by 
the same gentleman, he soon acquired very clear 
ideas of the evolutions and movements of troops. 
And from Mons. Vanbraam, who afterwards accom- 
panied him as interpreter to Venango, he acquired 
the art of fencing, at which, it is said, he was ex- 
tremely expert. A passion, so uncommon for war, 
joined to a very manly appearance, and great dignity 
of character, could scarcely fail to attract on him the 
attention of the public. In fact the public sentiment 
was so strong in his favour, that at the green age 
of nineteen, he was appointed major and adjutant 
general of the Virginia forces in the Northern Neck, 
when training, as was expected, for immediate 
service. 

For his services as an adjutant general, he was 
allowed by the crown one hundred pounds sterling 
per annum .^ 



99 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 



CHAPTER^. 

French encroachments on the Ohio — Washington volunteers his 
service to governor Dinwiddie — his hazardous embassy to the 
French and Indians — miraculous escapes — account of his journal — 
anecdote of his modesty. 

In the year 1753 the people of Virginia were 
alarmed by a report that the French, aided by the 
Indians, were erecting a long line of military posts 
on the Ohio. This manoeuvre, predicting no good to 
the ancient dominion, was properly resented by 
Robert Dinwiddie, the governor, who wished imme- 
diately in the name of his king to forbid the measure. 
But how to convey a letter to the French command- 
ant on the Ohio, was the question. For the whole 
country west of the Blue Mountains, was one im- 
measurable forest, from time immemorial the gloomy 
haunt of ravening beasts and of murderous savages. 
No voices had ever broke the awful silence of those 
dreary woods, save the hiss of rattlesnakes, the 
shrieks of panthers, the yell of Indians, and howling 
tempests. From such scenes, though beheld but by 
the distant eye of fancy, the hearts of youth are apt 
to shrink with terror, and to crouch more closely to 
their safer fire-sides. But in the firmer nerves of 
Washington, they do not appear to have made the 
least impression of the agueish sort. The moment 
he heard of the governor's wishes, he waited on him 
with — a tender of his services. 

" Now Christ save my saoul, but ye'er a braw 
lad I'' said the good old Scotchman, " and gin ye play 
your cards weel, my boy, ye shall hae nae cause to 
rue your bargain." The governor took him to L.s 
palace that night, which was spent in preparing his 
letters and instructions. The next day, accompaniea 
by an interpreter and a couple of servants, he set out 
on his journey, which, being in the depth of winter, 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 32 

was as disagreeable and dangerous as Heicules him- 
self could have desired. Drenching rains and drown- 
ing floods, and snow-covered mountains opposed his 
course; but opposed in vain. The generous ambi- 
tion to serve his country, and to distinguish himself, 
carried him through all ; and, even at the most trymg 
times, touched his heart with a joy unknown to the 
vain and trifling. On his way home he was way-laid 
and shot at by an Indian, who, thougli not fifteen 
paces distant, happily missed his aim. The poor 
wretch was made prisoner. But Washington could 
not find in his heart to put him to death, though his 
own safety seemed to require the sacrifice. The 
next evening, in attempting to cross a river on a raft, 
he was within an ace of being drowned ; and, the 
night following, of perishing in the ice ; but from 
both these imminent deadly risks, there was a hand 
miseen that effected his escape. 

About the middle of January he returned to Wil- 
liamsburgh ; and, instantly waiting on the governor, 
presented him the fruits of his labours — the belts of 
wampum which he had brought from the Indian 
kings as pledges of their friendship — the French 
governor's letters — and, last of all, his journal of the 
expedition. This, it seems, he had drawn up as a tub 
for the whale, that he might be spared the pam of 
much talking about himself and his adventures. For 
like the king of Morven, " though mighty deeds rolled 
from his soul of fire, yet his words were never heard.' 
The governor was much pleased with the Indian belts 
— more with the Frenchman's letter — but most of all 
with Washington's journal, which he proposed to have 
printed immediately. Washington begged that his 
excellency would spare him the mortification of seeing 
his journal sent out into the world in so mean a dress. 
He urged, that having been written in a wintry wil- 
derness, by a traveller, young, illiterate, and often 
cold, wet, and weary, it needed a thousand amend- 
ments. <' Hoot awa. Major," reolied his excellency. 



34 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

"hoot awa, mon ; what tauk ye aboot amendments 
I am sure the pamphlet need nae bhish to be seen by 
his majesty himsel — and in geud troth I mean to 
send him a copy or twa of it. And besides our 
Assembly will rise to-morrow or next day, and I 
wish each of the members to tak a few copies hame 
with them. So we must e'en strait-way print the 
journal off hand as it is." 

The journal, of course, was immediately printed. 
Every eye perused it : and every tongue was loud in 
its praise. Indeed it was not easy to err on the side 
of excess ; for whoever with candour reads the jour- 
nal, will readily pronounce it an unique in the history 
of juvenile productions. It discovers that vigour,and 
variety of talents, which take up, as it were intui- 
tively, the views belonging to any new subject that 
presents itself It is the hasty production of a young 
man, born in retreats of deepest solitude, in a time of 
profoundest peace, and brought up to the simple 
harmless employment of a surveyor, an employment 
which, more than any other, tends to tranquillize the 
mind. The verdure and music of the love-breathing 
spring; the bright fields and harvests of joy-inspiring 
summer ; the faded leaves and mournful silence of 
autumn, with winter's solemn grandeur; were the 
scenes in which the youth of Washington was passed. 
In these he hears the roar of distant war — from these 
he is sent forth to mark the gathering storm. In- 
stantly he breathes the whole spirit of his new 
engagement — " Old things are done away : all things 
are become new." The chain and theodolite are 
forgotten — the surveyor is lost in the soldier. His 
shoulders are young : but they sustain the head of an 
old engineer. He marks the soil, the timber, the 
confluence of rivers, the sites for forts. In short, 
nothing connected with the defence of his country 
escapes him. He penetrates the characters of the 
different people around him — the low sensuality of 
the Indian, ready, for a dram, to lift the tomahawk — 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 35 

the polished subtleties of the European, who can 
"smile an«l smile,'^ and yet design the death of the 
traveller. These important truths present themselves 
intuitively to his mind ; and shine with such lustre in 
the pages of his journal, as to command the admira- 
tion of every unprejudiced reader. 

Among the gentlemen in Williamsburgh, who had 
sense and virtue enough to appreciate the worth of 
Washington, one of the first was a Mr. Waller 
This gentleman, conversing on that subject with Mr. 
Robertson, speaker of the house of Burgesses, ob- 
served, that such services as those rendered by Major 
Washington, were far too important to be paid off by 
the light coin of common parlour puffs. " This young 
man,'^ said he, "has deserved well of his country; 
and her Representatives in Assembly ought to ac- 
knowledge the obligation.'^ That's exactly my own 
opinion," replied Robertson : "and if you will let me 
know when the major next visits us, I will make a 
motion to that effect." 

The next day, Washington, not having ever dreamt 
of the honour intended him, entered the house ; and, 
going up stairs, took his seat in the gallery. The 
eagle-eyed friendship of Mr. Waller quickly discov- 
ered him ; and stepping to the chair, whispered it to 
Mr. Robertson; who instantly arose, and ordering 
silence, called out : "' Gentlemen, it is proposed that 
the thanks of this house be given to Major Washing- 
ton, who now sits in the gallery, for the very gallant 
manner in which he executed the important trust 
lately reposed in him by his excellency governor 
Dinwiddle." In a moment the house rose as one 
man ; and turning towards Washington, saluted him 
with a general bow ; and, in very flattering terms, 
expressed their high sense of his services. Had an 
earthquake shaken the capitol to the centre, it could 
hardly have so completely confounded the major ! 
He rose to make hisacknowledgments, but, alas; his 
tongue had forgotten its office Thrice he essayed to 



56 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

speak : but thrice, in spite of every effort, his lUter- 
ance failed him, save faintly to articulate, "Mr. 
Speaker, Mr. Speaker !" To relieve him from his 
embarrassment, Mr. Kobertson kindly called out, 
" Major Washington, Major Washington, sit down; 
vour modesty alone is ec^ual to your merit.'^ 



CHAPTER VI. . 

The French and Indian war begins — Washington goes forth to meet 
the dangers of his country — aims a blow at Fort Du Q uesne — fails 
— gallant defence of Fort Necessity — retires from the service in 
disgust — pressed into it again by General Braddock — defeat and 
death of Braddock, and dreadful slaughter of his army. 

"Well, what is to come, will come !" said poor 
Paddy, when going to the gallows. Even so was 
come, as would seem, the time that was to come for 
"kmgs to go forth to battle." The truth is, numbers 
of poor tax-ground, and thence uneducated and half- 
starved wretches in Britain and France, were become 
diseased with a mortal cachexy or surcharge of bad 
humours ; such as gambling, swindling, horse steal- 
ing, highway robbing, &c. which nothing but the 
saturnine pills and steel points of Mars could effec- 
tually carry off. Thus in all corrupted governments 
war is considered as a necessary eviL It was no 
doubt necessary then. 

Such was the remote cause. The proximate his- 
tory, or how the dance begun, we now proceed to 
relate. 

We have just seen that the French, pouring down 
from the lakes of Canada, thick as autumnal geese, 
were dashing away on the Ohio, at an alarming rate 
— multiplying forts — holding talks — and strengthen- 
ing their alliances with the Indians. And we have 
seen, that Washington, with letters from governor 
Dmwiddie, had been out among the parlezvous, 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 37 

conjuring them by every thing venerable in treaties^ 
or valuable in peace, to desist from such unwarrant- 
able measures. But all to no purpose : for the 
French commandant, smiling at Washington, as a 
green horn, and at Dinwiddle as an old fool, conti 
nued his operations as vigorously as though he knew 
not that the country in question made a part of the 
British empire. 

Swift as the broad-winged packets could fly across 
the deep, the ncAvs was carried to England. Its effect 
there was like that of a stone rudely hurled against 
a nest of hornets. Instantly, from centre to circum- 
ference, all is rage and bustle — the hive resounds 
with the maddening insects. Dark tumbling from 
their cells they spread the hasty wing, and shrill 
whizzing through the air, they rush to find the foe. 
Just so in the sea-ruling island, from queens house lo 
ale-house, from king to cockney, all were fierce for 
fight. Even the red-nosed porters where they met, 
bending under their burdens, would st^p in the 
streets, to talk of England's wrong: and, as they 
talked, their fiery snouts were seen to grow more 
fiery still, and more deformed. Then throwing their 
packs to the ground, and leaping into the attitude of 
boxers, with sturdy arms across, and rough black 
jaws stretched out, they bend forward to the fancied 
fight ! The frog-eating foe, in shirtless ruffles and 
long lank queue seems to give ground ! then rising 
in their might, with fire-striking eyes they press hard 
upon him; and coming in, hand and foot, with kick 
and culf, and many a hearty curse, they show the 
giggling crowd, how, damn 'em, they would thump 
the French. 

The news was brought to Britain's king just as he 
had dispatched his pudding ; and sat, right royally 
amusing himself with a slice of Gloucester and a 
nip of ale. From the lips of the king down feU the 
luckless cheese, alas ! not grac'd to comfort the 
fitomach of the Lord's anointed; while, crowned 

4 



38 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

with snowy foam, his nut-brown ale stood untaxed 
beside his plate. Suddenly as he lieard the news, 
the monarch darkened in his place ; and answering 
darkness shrouded all his court. 

In silence he roiled his eyes of fire on the floor, 
and twirled his terrible thumbs! his pages shrunk 
from his presence ; for who could stand before the 
king of thundering ships, when wrath, in gleams of 
hghtning, flashed from his "dark red eyes?" Starting 
at length, as from a trance, he swallowed his ale : 
then clenching his fist, he gave the table a tremendous 
knock, and cursed the wooden-shoed nation by his 
God ! Swift as he cursed, the dogs of war bounded 
from their kennels, keen for the chase : and, snuffing 
the blood of Frenchmen on every gale, they raised a 
howl of death which reached these peaceful shores. 
Orders were immediately issued, by the British 
government, for the colonies to arm and unite in one 
confederacy. Virginia took the lead ; and raised a 
regiment, to the second command in which she raised 
her favourite Washington. Colonel Fry, by right of 
seniority, commanded : but on his death, which 
happened soon after his appointment, Washington 
succeeded to the command. With this little handful, 
he bravely pushed out into the wilderness, in quest 
of the enemy ; and at a place called the Little 
Meadows, came up with a party under one Jumon- 
ville. This officer was killed, and all his men taken 
prisoners. 

From these prisoners, he obtained undoubted ui- 
telligence, that the French troops on the Ohio, 
consisted of upwards of a thousand regulars, and 
many hundreds of Indians. But notwithstanding 
this disheartening intelligence, he still pressed on 
undauntedly against the enemy, and, at a place called 
the Great Meadows, built a fort, which he called 
Fort Necessity. 

Soon as the lines of the entrenchments were marked 
off, and the men about to fall to work, Washington 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 39 

seizing the band of the first that was lifting the spade, 
cried out " Stop, my brave fellow ! my band must 
heave the first earth that is thrown up in defence of 
this country !" 

Leaving a small garrison behind him, he dashed 
on for Fort Duquesne, (Fort Pitt,) hoping by the 
reduction of that important post, to strike terror into 
the enemy, and defeat their plans. But though this 
was a bold stroke of generalship, yet it appeared that 
he had not a force, sufficient to effect it. For in the 
midst of this day's march, he was met by a party of 
friendly Indians, who, running up to him, with looks 
and gestures greatly agitated, cried out : '' Fly ! fly ! 
don't look behind you ! your enemies are upon you, 
thick as the pigeons in the woods !" 

Washington called a conncil of his oflicers, who 
advised an immediate return to Fort Necessity, which 
they hardly recovered before their sentinels fired an 
alarm ; came running in; and stated that the vvoods 
were alive with Frenchmen and Indians ! It should 
have been observed, that the dreadful news of the 
day before, had produced so shameful a desertion 
among his troops in the course of the night, thn.t 
wiien the enemy attacked, which they did with 1500 
men, Washington had but 300 to stand by him. 
But never did the true Virginia valour shine more 
gloriously than on this trying occasion — to see 300 
young fellows — commanded by a smooth-faced boy 
— all unaccustomed to the terrors of war — far from 
home — and from all hope of help — shut up in a 
dreary wilderness — and surrounded by five times 
their number of savage foes, yet without sign of 
fear, preparing for mortal combat ! Scarcely since 
the days of Leonidas and his three hundred deathless 
Spartans, had the sun beheld its equal. With hideous 
whoops and yells, the enemy came on like a host of 
tigers. The woods and rocks, and tall tree-tops, 
filled with Indians, were in one continued blaze and 
crash of fire-arms. Nor were our youthful warriors 

4 



40 LIFE OF WASHINGTON, 

idle : but animated by their youthful commander, 
they plied their rifles with such spirit, that the little 
fort resembled a volcano in full blast, roaring and 
discharging thick sheets of liquid fire and of leaden 
deaths among their foes. For nine glorious hours, 
salamander-like, enveloped in smoke and flames, 
they sustained the attack of the enemy's whole force, 
and laid two hundred of them dead on the spot ! 
Discouraged by such desperate resistance, the French 
general, the Count de Villiers, sent in a flag to 
Washington, highly extolling his gallantry, and ofler- 
mg him the most honourable terms. It was stipulated, 
that Washington and his little band of heroes, should 
march away with all the honours of war, and carry 
with them their mihtary stores and baggage. 

On their return to the bosom of their country, 
they were every where received with the praises 
which they had so well deserved. The Legislature 
voted the thanks of the nation to Washington and 
his officers ; witli a pistole to each of his men, about 
300. 

In the course of the folio wmg winter, notice was 
given from the mother country, that American 
officers, acting with the British, should bear no 
command ! ! Hence the poorest shoat, if wearing 
the proud epaulette of a Briton, might command a 
Wolfe, if so unlucky as to be an American ! ! ! 
Incensed at such an outrage on common justice, and 
the rights of his countrymen, Washington threw up 
his commission, and retired to his plantation. Mount 
Vernon, lately left him by his brother Lawrence. 
Here, Cincinnatus-like, he betook him to his favorite 
plough. But the season called for the sword; and 
he was now risen too high to be overlooked in times 
like those when troubles and fears began to darken 
over all the land. 

The report of his gallant but unsuccessful struggle 
with the French and Indians, soon reached England : 
and the ministry thinking the colonies abne too 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 41 

weak to repel the enemy, hurried on General Brad- 
dock, with two heavy regiments, to their aid. This 
reinforcement arrived early in the spring of 1755. 
Leaving them at the Capes on their way up to 
Belle-haven, (now Alexandria,) Braddock called at 
Williamsburgh, to see Governor Dinwiddle, who 
attended him to Alexandria. 

" Where is Colonel Washington ?" said General 
Braddock. " I long to see him.'^ 

" He is retired from the service. Sir," replied the 
Governor. 

'^ Retired ! Sir !'' coutmued the General, " Colonel 
Washington retired ! pray, Sir, what's the reason ?" 

On hearing the cause, he broke into a passion against 
the order from the war-office as a shameful piece of 
partiality — and extolled Colonel Washington as "a 
young man of sense and spirit, who knew and asserted 
his rights as became a soldier and a British subject.'' 

He then wrote to Washington, whom he pressingly 
mvited to join his army, and accept the rank of a 
volunteer aid-de-camp in his own family. This 
invitation was cheerfully accepted by our young 
countryman, who waited on General Braddock as 
soon as he heard of his arrival at Alexandria. About 
the same time, three companies of excellent Virginia 
marksmen, raised by order of the Legislature, arrived 
at the British camp. 

It was in the month of June, 1755, that the army, 
upwards of 2000 strong, left Alexandria ; and, with 
their faces to the west, began their march to the 
mournful ditty of ^-over the hills and far away." On 
the route Washington was taken sick ; and by the 
time they had reached the Little Meadows, had 
become so very ill, that Braddock, at the instance of 
the physicians, insisted most peremptorily that he 
should lie by until Colonel Dunbar with the rear ot 
the army came up. With great reluctance he yielded 
to their wishes. But so great were his fears for the 
army, lest in those wild woods it should fall into 
some Indian sr.are, that the moment his fever left 



12 I.IFE OF WASHINGTON. 

hiiii, he mounted his horse, and pursued, iind over- 
took them the very evening before they fell into that 
ambuscade which he had all along dreaded. For 
the next morning, the 9th of July, wlien they were 
safely arrived within seven miles of Fort Duquesne! 
and so confident of success, that their general swore 
he would that night sup either in Fort Duquesne or 
in the lower regions — behold, the Virginia Rangers 
discovered signs of Indians. 

Here Washington, with his usual modesty, observ 
ed to General Braddock what sort of an enemy he 
had now to deal with — an enemy who would not, 
like the Europeans, come forward to a fair contest in 
the field, but concealed behind the rocks and trees, 
carry on a deadly warfare with their rifles. He 
concluded with these words, "I beg of your excel- 
lency the honour to allow me to lead on with the 
Virginia Riflemen, and fight them in their own way." 

Had It been decreed that this hapless army should 
have been saved, this was the counsel to have efl'ected 
It. But it would seem, alas ! that heaven had 
ordained their fall in that distant land ; and there 
with their flesh to fatten the wolves and vultures on 
the hills of Monongahela. For General Braddock, 
who had all along treated the American officers with 
infinite contempt, rejected Washington's counsel, and 
swelling with most unmanly rage, replied, " High 

times, by High times! when a young Buckskin 

can teach a British General how to fight !" Instantly 
the pale, fever-worn cheeks of Washington turned 
fiery red. But smothering his feelings, he rode 
towards his men, biting his lips with grief and rage, 
to think how many brave fellows would draw short 
breath that day through the pride and obstinacy of 
one epauletted madman. Formed in heavy columns 
the troops continued to advance. A little beyond 
the Monongahela, was a narrow defile,through which 
lay their road, with moss-grown rocks on either side, 
and aged trees that spread an awful shade. Here, 
in perfect concealment, the French and Indians lay, 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 43 

waiting impatiently for this devoted army. Too 
soon, alas ! tiie army came up, and entering the defile, 
moved along in silence, like sheep to the slaughter 
little dreaming how close the bloody fates hovered 
around them. Thinking their prey now completely 
in their clutches, all at once, the Indians set up tho 
most hideous yells, as if the woods were filled with 
ten thousand panthers. This they did, both as a 
terror to the British, and a signal to attack ; for in 
the same moment they poured in a general fire, which 
instantly covered the ground with death in every 
hideous shape. Some were seen sinking pale and 
lifeless at once, giving up the ghost with only a 
hollow groan — others rolling on the earth, convulsed 
and shrieking in the last agonies, while life and life's 
warm blood together gushed in hissing torrents from 
their breasts. Such sights of their bleeding comrades, 
had the enemy but been in view, instead of depress- 
mg would but have inflamed British blood with 
fiercer thirst for vengeance. But, a'las ! to be thus 
entrapped in a dreary wild ! to be thus pent up, and 
shot from behind rocks and trees, by an invisible 
enemy, was enough to dismay the stoutest hearts. 
Their native valour, however, and confidence i^i 
themselves, did not at once forsake them. But, 
animated by their officers, they stood their ground, 
and lor a considerable time fouglit like heroes. But 
seeing no impression made by their fire, while that 
of the enemy, heavy as at first, v/itli fatal flashes 
continued to cut down their ranks, they at length 
took a panic, and fell into great confusion. Happily, 
on the left, where lay the deadliest fire, Wasliington's 
fcingers were posted ; but not exposed like the 
British. For, on hearing the horrible savage yells. 
m a moment they flew each to his tree, like the 
Indians ; and like them, each levelled his rifle, and 
with as deadly aim. This, through a kind Provi 
dence, saved Braddock's army; for exulting m their 
confusion, the savages, grimly painted, yelhng like 
furies, burst from their coverts, eager to glut thei 

4* 



44 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

hellish roge with a total massacre of the British. But, 
faithful to their friends, Washington's rangers stepped 
forth with joy to meet the assailants. Then rose a 
scene sufficient to fill the stoutest heart with horror. 
Burning alike for vengeance, both parties throw 
aside the slow-murdering rifles, and grasp their 
swifl -fated tomahawks. Dreadfully above their 
heads gleams the brandished steel, as with full 
exerted limbs, and faces all inflamed with mortal 
hate, they level at each other their last decisive 
blows. Death rages through all their fast-thinning 
ranks — his bleeding victims are rolled together on 
every side. Here falls the brave Virginia Bhie, 
under the stroke of his nimbler foe — and there, man 
on man the Indians perish beneath the furious toma- 
hawks, deep buried in the shattered brain. But who 
can tell the joy of Washington, when he saw this 
handful of his despised countrymen thus gallantly 
defending their British friends, and by dint of mortal 
steel driving back their blood thirsty assailants. 
Happy check ! for by this time, covered with wounds 
Braddock had fallen — his aids and officers, to a man^ 
killed or wounded — and his troops, in hopeless, help- 
less despair, flying backwards and forwards from the 
fire of the Indians, like flocks of crowding sheep from 
the presence of their butchers. Washington alone 
remained unhurt ! Horse after horse had been 
killed under him. Showers of bullets had touched 
his locks or pierced his regimentals. But still pro- 
tected by heaven — still supported by a strength not 
his own, he had continued to fly from quarter to 
quarter, where his presence was most needed, some- 
times animating his rangers ; sometimes striving, but 
m vain, to rally the regulars. 'Twas his lot to be 
close to the brave but imprudent Bj-addock when he 
fell ; and he assisted to place him in a tumbril, or 
little cart. As he was laid down, pale and near spent, 
with loss of blood, he faintly said to Washington— 
" Well, Colonel, what's to be done now ?" 




DEFEAT OF GENERAL BRADDOCK. 



LIFE Ob WASHINGTON. 47 

•< Retreat, Sir," replied Wasiiington : " retreat by 
all means; for the Regulars Avon't fight; and the 
Rangers are nearly all killed !" 

"Poor fellows!" he replied, "poor fellows! — 
Well, do as you will, Colonel, do as you will." 

The army then commenced its retreat, in a very 
rapid and disorderly manner, while Washington with 
his few surviving rangers, covered the rear. 

Happily, the Indians did not pursue them far: but 
after firing a few random shots, returned in a body, 
to fall upon the plunder ; while Washington, with 
his frightened fugitives continued their retreat, sadly 
remembering that more than one half of their morn- 
ing's gay companions were left a prey to the ravening 
beasts of the desert. There, denied the common 
charities of the grave, they lay for many a year 
bleaching the lonely hills with their bones. 

On reaching Fort Cumberland, where they met 
Colonel Dunbar with the rear of the army. General 
Braddock died. He died in the arms of Washington, 
whose pardon he often begged for having treated 
him so rudely that fatal morning — heartily wished, 
he said, he had but followed his advice — frequently 
called his rangers " brave fellows ! glorious fellows !" 
Often said, he should be glad to live if it was only to 
reward their gallantry ! I have more than once been 
told, but cannot vouch for the truth of it, diat his 
sister, on hearing how obstinately Washington and 
his Blues had fought for her brother, was so afiected 
that she shed tears: and sent them from England 
handsome cockades, according to their number, and 
a pair of colours elegantly wrought by her own fair 
hands. 

With respect to Washington, I cannot but mention 
here two very extraordinary speeches that were 
made about him, after Braddock's defeat, and which, 
as things have turned out, look a good deal like pro- 
phecies. A famous Indian warrior, who acted a 
reading part in that bloody tragedy, was often heard 



4S LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

to swear, that " Washington was never born to be 
Killed by a bullet! For," continued he "I had seven- 
teen fair fires at him with my rifle, and after all could 
not bring him to the ground !'' And indeed whoever 
considers that a good rifle levelled by a proper marks- 
man, hardly ever misses its aim, will readily enough 
conclude with this unlettered savage, that there was 
some invisible hand that turned aside the bullets. 

The Rev. Mr. Davies, in a sermon occasioned by 
Braddock's defeat, has these remarkable words — " I 
beg leave to point the attention of the public to that 
heroic youth Colonel W^ashington, whom I cannot 
but hope Providence has preserved for some great 
service to this country ! !" 

But though the American writers have pretty 
unanimously agreed, that Washington was, under 
God, the saving Angel that stood up between Brad- 
dock's army and total destruction, yet did it profit 
him but little with his sovereign. The British officers 
indeed admired him : but they had no idea of going 
any farther: "To tell in Gath, or publish in the 
streets of Askalon" that a British army owed its 
safety to a young Buckskin, required a pitch of virtue 
and of courage above ordinary minds. Washington 
was therefore kept in the back ground ; and General 
Braddock being dead, the command devolved upon 
Colonel Dunbar, whose conduct proved him to be 
one of those pusillanimous hirelings, who flee when 
the Avolf cometh. To attempt, by some gallant effort 
to recover what Braddock had lost, — or to hang upon 
the enemy, and prevent, at least, those numerous 
scalping parties, which distracted witli midnight 
murders and deluged the defenceless frontiers with 
blood, were brave and generous ideas, of which he 
seemed incapable. But, trembling under the general 
panic, he instantly ordered tlie tents to be struck; 
and pushing off under the whip and spur of his fears, 
never halted until he had reached Philadelphia ; 
where he went, as he called it, into winter quarters. 



lAFB OF WASHINGTON. 49 

(in the beginning of the dog-days !) leaving all the 
frontiers of Maryland and Virginia exposed to the 
merciless tomahawk. 

Such facts ought to be recorded for the benefit oi 
young men, who, with no military qualifications but 
big limbs, can yet covet red coats and shoulder-knots. 

Being thus shamefully deserted by Colonel Dun- 
bar, Washington with his thirty rangers, set out with 
sorrowful hearts to return home. But before he left 
Fort Cumberland, he dispatched an express, to inform 
Governor Dinwiddle, that " General Braddock was 
slain — his army totally defeated — the remnant on 
their march to Philadelphia — and the whole frontier 
given up to the Indians !" The consternation that 
was spread throughout the country by this news, 
was inexpressible. Heart-sickening terrors, as of a 

woman in labour, seized upon all families and a 

frightened fancy found food for its fears in every 
thing around it — the blast whistling round the cor- 
ners of their cabin, alarmed, like the yell of murder- 
ous savages — the innocent death-bell — the croaking 

raven — the midnight howl of dogs were all sure 

harbingers of fate. While, for dread of the Indians, 
the roads were filled with thousands of distracted 
parents, with their weeping little ones, flying from 
their homes. 

The Governor instantly ordered a call of the Le- 
gislature, who, by the time Washington reached 
Williamsburgh, were assembled, and, together with 
numbers of citizens, went out and met him near the 
'■[Own. 

The interview was tender. For the citizens were 
almost moved to tears, when they saw that of so many 
of their brave countrymen who went forth to battle, 
only this little handful remained ! They were exceed 
mgly rejoiced to see, alive, and well, their beloved 
Washington. He had always been dear to them ; but 
now doubly dear, in such times of danger. They 
mourned the misfortunes of their country ; tut laid 

5 



50 LIFE OF WASHINGTOiN. 

no blame to him. On the contrary, it was universal 
ly believed, that, but for him the ruin would have 
been complete. " Braddock," said they, <• lost the 
victory : but Washington saved the army." 



CHAPTER VII. 

Fatal effects of Braddock's defeat — Washington wishes to carry the 
war into the Indian country — government refuses — defensive war 
preferred — the frontiers desolated. 

Great was the joy at Fort Duquesne on the re- 
turn of their troops from the slaughter of Braddock's 
army. The idea of victory, as appeared afterwards, 
had never once entered their heads. — They had gone 
out just to reconnoitre, and harass the British in their 
approach ! How unbounded then must have been the 
joy of the garrison, on seeing their friends come back 
next morning, not sad and spiritless, as had been 
expected, but whooping and shouting for a glorious 
victory ; and enriched with the artillery, ammunition, 
provisions, and baggage-waggons of a British army 
cut to pieces ! ! 

The French commandant took care to make a 
proper use of his advantage ; for as soon as the days 
of savage feasting and drunkenness were over, he 
sent out deputations of his chiefs with grand-talks to 
several of the neighbouring tribes, who had not yet 
hfted the hatchet. 

The tribes being assembled, and the calumet ci 
pipe of friendship smoked around, the cliiefs arose ; 
and in ail the pomp of Indian eloquence announced 
their great victory over Long Knife (the Virginians) 
and his white brothers, (the British) — then with a 
proud display of the numerous scalps and rich dresses 
which they had taken, they concluded with inviting 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 51 

the young men to nnbury the tomahawk, and rush 
with them to drink the blood of their enemies. 

This Avas enough — " Grinning horribly a ghastly 
smile," at such prospects of blood and plunder, the 
grim children of the desert, rose up at once to war. 
No time was lost in preparation. A pouch of parch- 
ed corn, and a bear-skin,, with a rifle, tomahawk, 
and scalping knife, were their equipage. And in a 
few weeks after Braddock's defeat, an army of at 
least fourteen hundred of those blood-thirsty savages 
were in full march over hills and mountains, to sur- 
prise and murder the frontier inhabitants. 

Washington had early foreseen the storm that 
would one day burst from Fort Dli Quesne. On his 
first trip through that country, two years before, h3 
had marked the very spot, and pointed it out as "tho 
key of the western world." But Britain and America, 
(like the wild ass and her colts, though mule-stubborn 
m acting, yet snail-slow to act,) let the golden chance 
escape ; till one Du Quesne, a French officer, with 
some troops, passing along that way in 1754, and 
struck, as Washington had been, with the situation, 
immediately built thereon a fort, which he called 
after his own name. It answered the fatal purposes 
which Washington had predicted. By means of the 
bold water courses on which it stood, it greatly 
favoured the conveyance both of goods and of intelh- 
gence. There the French laid up magazines for then 
Indian allies, and there they hoisted the dread signals 
of war. 

Not having been able to prevail on his countrymen 
to occupy it before the enemy, Washington's whole 
ambition now was to take it from them. " Send two 
thousand men," — said he, in numerous importunate 
letters to the Governor and Legislature, '' send two 
thousand men, and drain the fountain at once — the 
streams will fail of course." 

But, spite of this advice, the mad policy of a 
defensive war prevailed in the Virginia Governrnenl 



52 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

and instead of raising 2000 men, they voted to raise 
about half that number ! and then, like liypocrites 
who make up in hp-service what they lack in good 
works, they dubbed hmi Commander in chief of all 
the troops raised or to be raised in Virginia, with the 
privilege of naming his own field officers ! 

These vain honours served but to exalt him to a 
higher sphere of misery — the misery of taking a wider 
survey of thosf. misfortunes of his country which he 
could not remedy, — and to feel a deeper responsibility 
for those blunders of others, \vhich he could not cure. 
He saw Fort Duquesne mustering her murderers, 
which he had no powers to prevent ! He had a fron- 
tier of 360 miles to defend, and generally less than 
700 men to defend it with ! If he kept his troops em- 
bodied, the whole country would be left open to the 
savages. If he broke them down into small parties, 
they might be destroyed one after another, by a su- 
perior force. If he threw them into forts, they were 
sure to be starved ; or derided by the enemy, who 
could easily pass them in the night and surprise, 
destroy, and murder the inhabitants with impunity. 
And though thus completely crippled by the stupidity 
or parsimony of the government, and incapacitated 
from doing any services for his country, yet great 
services were expected of him, and great blame bes- 
tov\red for every failure. If no victories were gained 
over the enemy, he would be blamed for inactivity. 
If the settlers were murdered, he would be accused 
of neglect — and if he pointed out the errors of gov- 
ernment, he would be charged as "officious" and 
" impertinent ;" and this while young officers of the 
worthless sort, mere cork-drawers and songsters at 
great men's tables, were basely cutting in with a 
weak old governor's prejudices, to work him out. 
and to worm themselves hito favour and rank. 

But all these vexations and sorrows were but trifles 
in comparison of others which he was doomed to 
feel. Seeing no hopes of a force snfficient to attack 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOJN. 53 

Fort Duqiiesne,he formed a chain of garrisons along 
the frontier ; and then, with a flying corps of tiie 
most active and daring young men, continued night 
and day, to scour the country in quest of the enemy's 
murdering parties. In this bold and dangerous 
employment, which lasted almost three years, he was 
often presented with sights of human destruction, 
sufficient to excite sympathy in hearts of flintiest stone. 

On cautiously entering the hapless plantation with 
his men, they halt and listen awhile — but hear no 
voice of man — see no house, nor sign of habitation — 
all is void and silent. Marking the buzzards perched 
on the trees in the corn-fields, they approach, and find, 
lying by his plough, the half-devoured carcass of a 
man. The hole in his breast shows that he had been 
shot, while the deep gashes in the forehead of his 
dead horses, point out the bursting strokes of the 
tomahawk. Amidst the ashes of the late dwelling, 
are seen, white as chalk, the bones of the mother and 
ner children. But sometimes their raw and bloody 
skeletons, fed on by the hogs, are found in the yards 
or gardens where they were surprised. 

" One day'' — said he to an intimate ; though it was 
out seldom that he mentioned those things, they gave 
nim so much pain — "One day, as we drew near 
through the woods, to a dwelling, suddenly we heard 
the discharge of a gun. Whereupon quickening our 
pace, and creeping up through the thick bushes to a 
fence, we saw what we had dreaded — a party of 
Indians, loaded with plunder, coming out of a house, 
which, by the smoke, appeared as if it were just set 
on fire. In a moment we gave the savages a shower 
of rifle balls, which kiUed every man of them but 
one. He attempted to run off". It was in vain. 
Some of our swift-footed hunters gave chase, and 
soon overtook and immolated him with their toma- 
hawks. On rushing into the house, and putting out 
the fire, we saw a mournful sight indeed — a young 
woman lying on a bed floating in blood — her foie- 
5* 5 



54 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

head cleft with a hatchet — and on her breast two 
Uttle children, apparently twms, and about nine 
months old, bathing her bosom with the crimson 
currents flowing from their deeply gashed heads ! 1 
had often beheld the mangled remains of my mur- 
dered countrymen ; but never before felt what I did 
on this occasion. To see these poor innocents— 
these little unoff'ending angels, just entered upon life, 
and, instead of fondest sympathy and tenderness, 
meeting their hideous deaths; and from hands of 
brothers too ! filled my soul with the deepest horror 
of sin ! but at the same time inspired a most adoring 
sense of that religion which announces the Redeemer, 
who shall, one day, do away man's malignant 
passions, and restore the children of God to primeval 
love and bliss. Without this hope, what man of feel 
ing but would wish he had never been born ! 

On tracing back into the corn-field the steps of the 
barbarians, we found a little boy, and beyond him 
his father, both weltering in blood. It appeared, 
from the print of his little feet in the furrows, that the 
child had been following his father's plough ; and, 
seeing him shot down, had set off with all his might, to 
get to the house to his mother ; but was overtaken, 
and destroyed ! 

« And, indeed, so great was the dread entertained 
of the French and Indians, throughout the settle- 
ments, that it was distressing to call even on those 
families who yet survived, but, from sickness or other 
causes, had not been able to get away. The poor 
creatures would run to meet us, like persons half 

distracted with joy and then with looks blank 

with terror, would tell that such or such a neigh- 
bour's family, perhaps the very night before, was 
murdered ! — and that they heard their cries ! — and 
saw the flames that devoured their houses ! — and 
also, that they themselves, after saying their prayer? 
at night, never lay down to sleep, without first taking 
leave of one another, as if they never expected tc 



J.iFE OF WASHINGTON. 55 

*neet again, in tliis world. But when we came to 
take our leave of these wretched families, my God ! 
what were our feeUngs ! to see the deep, silent grief 
of the men ; and the looks of the poor women and 
children, as, falling upon their knees, with piercing 
screams, and eyes wild with terror, they seized our 
Hands, or hung to our clothes, intreating us, for God's 
sake, and for mercy sake, not to leave them. I 
remember, "These things so harrassed my heart 
with grief, that I solemnly declare to God, if I know 
myself, I would gladly offer my own life a sacrifice 
to the butcherhig enemy, if I could thereby insure 
ihe safety of these my poor distressed countrymen. 

Such were the scenes in which Washington was 
doomed to spend three years of a wretched life, ren- 
dered still more wretched by knowing so perfectly 
as he did, that the rapid charge of two thousand brave 
fellows upon Fort Duquesne, like the thundering 
shock of a two-and-forty pounder upon a water-spout, 
would have instantly dispersed the fatal meteor, and 
restored the golden hours of peace and safety. But 
to give Colonel Washington two thousand men, 
seemed to old governor Dinwiddle, like giving the 
staff out of his own hand, as he elegantly called it ; 
and rather than do that, he would risk the desolation 
of the western country, by continuing a defensive 
war, and a mad dependence on a disorderly militia, 
who would come and go as they pleased— get drunk 
and sleep when they pleased — whoop and halloo 
where they pleased — and, in short, serve no other 
purpose on earth but to disgrace their officers, deceive 
the settlers, and defraud the public. Indeed so 
ruinous were these measures of governors Dinwiddle 
and Loudon, that, in the short space of three years, 
they completely broke up all the fine young settle- 
ments to the westward of Winchester, Fredericktown, 
and Carlisle, whereby numbers of poor people were 
butchered ! hundreds of rich plantations deserted ! 
myriads of produce lost I and thousands ol dollars 



56 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

sunk! and all for the sake of saving the paltry 
expense of raismg m the first instance a force which 
would in ten weeks have taken Fort Duquesne, and 
completely broken up that den of thieves and mur- 
derers ! 

At length, in 1758, the government of Virginia 
devolved on general Forbes, who, to the infinite 
satisfaction of Washington, consented to second hi3 
views on Fort Duquesne. Washington earnestly 
recommended an early campaign, lest the Indian 
warriors who were to meet them in April at W^inches- 
ter, should grow tired of waiting, and return home. 
But the season was, unfortunately, so idled away, 
that marching orders were not given till the first of 
September, when, according to Washington's pre- 
diction, there was not a red man to be found in camp. 
The army then commenced its movements, but still 
as would seem, under the frown of heaven. 

For instead of sweeping along the old track, gene- 
rally called Braddock's road. Gen. Forbes was per- 
suaded to take an entirely new route, of which every 
inch was to be cut through wilds and mountains 
covered with rocks and trees ! In vain Washington 
remonstrated against this as a measure, "which'^ he 
said, " if persisted in at this late season, would 
certainly ruin the undertaking." — General Forbes 
was inflexible. 

In a letter to the Speaker of the House of Burges- 
ses, Washington has these remarkable words — " If 
this conduct of our leaders, do not flow from superior 
orders, it must flow from a weakness, too gross for 
me to name. Nothing now but a miracle can bring 
this campaign to a happy issue." In a letter of a 
later date he says, " well, all's lost ! our enterprise is 
ruined ! And we shall be stopped this winter at the 
Laurel Hills !" 

By the middle of November, after incredible exer- 
tions, the army, sure enough, reached the Laurel 
Hklls, where Washington predicted it would winter r 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON 57 

and strange to tell ! General Forbes, with a caucus 
squad of his officers were actually in deep debate, 
whether they should spend the winter in that inhos- 
pitable wild, or tread back their mournful steps to 
Winchester, when some prisoners br ought the wel- 
come news that the garrison of Fort Duquesne, for 
a long time past unsupported by their countrymen, 
and now deserted by the Indians, was so reduced, 
that they would surrender at the sight of an enemy. 
General Forbes instantly changed his mind, and with 
a select detachment made a push for Fort Duquesne, 
the ruins of which he entered, without opposition, on 
the 28th of November, 1758. For, advertised of his 
approach, the French determined to quit it; and 
after having set fire to the buildings, embarked in 
their boats, and went down the river. 

Having thus, after three years of labour and 
sorrow, attained his favourite wish — the reduction of 
Fort Duquesne and a total dispersion of the savages, 
Washington returned with joy to Williamsburgh, to 
take his seat in the legislature, to which he had been 
regularly chosen in his absence. 

It is worthy of remark, because it happens but to 
few, that though he often failed of success, he never 
once lost the confidence of his country. Early aware 
of the importance of character, to those who wish to 
be useful, he omitted no honest act, thought no pains, 
no sacrifice of ease too great, to procure and preserve 
It. In the whole of that stupidly-managed war, as 
also another subsequent war, which was not much 
better conducted, he always took care to keep the 
public well informed as to the part which he had 
acted, or wished to act, in the affair. Not content, to 
know himself that he had acted wisely or bravely, he 
took care that the public should also know it ; in order 
that if at any time an uproar should be made, the 
error might be charged to the real offender. If the 
legislature, or governor Dinwiddle, or general Brad- 
dock, or any other superior, with whom he had 



58 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

public concern, and character at stake, made propo 
sitions which he disUked, he would modestly pomt 
out their errors, predict their mischiefs, and thus 
wash his hands of all blame : — which documents, 
through the channel of numerous letters to his friends, 
were always laid before the people. Hence, for the 
ruinous consequences of the weakness and obstinacy 
of Dinwiddle and Braddock, not a breath of censure 
was ever blown on him. On the contrary, in the 
public mind, he always rose as high, or higher, than 
the others sunk. It was universally believed, that 
had he governed, in place of Dinwiddle, the fatal 
Indian war would not have lasted a campaign ; and 
that on the hills of Monongahela, had Washington 
commanded in place of Braddock, the French and 
Indians would have been handled very differently. 
Such were the sentiments with which the public were 
prepared to receive him, on his return into their 
welcoming bosom. Wherever he went, homage 
always waited upon him, though always uncourted. 
The grey-headed rose up to do him honour, when he 
came into their company ; and the young men, with 
sighs, often wished for a fame like his. Happy was 
the fairest lady of the land, who, at the crowded ball, 
could get colonel Washington for her partner. And 
even at the house where prayer is wont to be made, 
the eyes of beauty would sometimes wander from 
the cold reading preacher, to catch a livelier devotion 
from his "mind-illumined face,' ^ — a face at once so 
dignified with virtue, and so sweetened with grace, 
that none could look on it without emotions very 
friendly to the heart ; and sighs of sentiment, too 
delicate for description, were often seen to heave the 
snowy bosoms of the noblest dames. 

At the head of all these stood the accomplished 
Mrs. Martha Custis, the beautiful and wealthy 
widow of Mr. John Custis. Her wealth was equal 
at least, to one hundred thousand dollars! But her 
beauty was a sum far larger still. It was not the 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 59 

shallow boast of a fine skin, which time so quickly 
tarnishes, nor of those short-lived roses, which some- 
times wither almost as soon as blown. But it sprung 
from the heart — from the divine and benevolent 
affections, which spontaneously gave to her eyes, her 
looks, her voice and her manners, such angelic 
charms, that I could never look on her, without 
exclaiming with the poet, ! 

" She was nearest heaven of all on earth I knew ; 
And all but adoration was her due." 

For two such kindred souls to love, it was only 
necessary that they should meet. Their friendship 
commenced with the first hour of their acquaintance, 
and was soon matured to marriage, which took place 
about the 27th year of Washington's life. His lady 
was, I believe, six months younger. 

But that it is contrary to the rules of biography, to 
begin with the husband and end with the wife, I 
could relate of that most excellent lady those things 
which the public would greatly delight to hear. 
However, gratitude to that bright saint, now in 
heaven, who was my noblest benefactress, while I 
preached in her parish, compels me to say, that her 
virtues and charities were of that extensive and 
sublime sort, as fully to entitle her hie jacet to the 
following noble epitaph, a little altered, from one of 
the British poets. 

Underneath this marble hearse, 
Lies the subject of all verse. 
Custis' widow — great George's wife — 
Death ! ere thou robb'st another life, 
Virtuous, fair, and good as she, 
Christ shall launch a dart at thee. 



eo Lli^'E OF WASHINGTON. 



CHAPTER VHI. 

Washington's mother has a very curious dream — it pomts to great 
coming trouble — a cloud arising in England — the causes of the 
revolutionary war. 

When a man begins to make a noise in the world, 
his relatives, (the Father, sometimes, but, always 
that tenderer parent, the Mother) are sure to recollect 
certain mighty odd dreams, which they had of him 
when he was a child. What rare dreams, for exam 
?)]e, had the mothers of " Macedonia's madman, and 
^e Swede," while pregnant with those butchers ot 
the human race ! Mrs. Washington also had hei 
dream, which an excellent old Lady of Fredericks- 
burg assured me she had often heard her relate with 
great satisfaction ; and, for the last time, but a few 
weeks before her death. 

"I dreamt," said the Mother of Washington, 
«* that I was sitting in the piazza of a large new house, 
hito which we had but lately moved. George, at that 
time about five years old, was in the garden with his 
corn-stalk plough, busily running little furrows in the 
sand, in imitation of Negro Dick, a fine black boy, 
with whose ploughing George was so delighted that 
it was sometimes difficult to get him to his dinner. 
And so as I was sitting in the piazza at my work, I 
suddenly heard in my dream a kind of roaring noise 
on the eastern side of the house. On running out to 
see what was the matter, I beheld a dreadful sheet 
of fire bursting from the roof. The sight struck me 
with a horror which took away my strength, and 
threw me, almost senseless, to the ground. My 
husband and the servants, as I saw in my dream, 
soon came up ; but, like myself, were so terrified at 
the sight, that they could make no attempt to extin- 
guish the flames. In this most distressing state, the 
image of my little son came, I thought, to my mind 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 61 

more dear and tender than ever : and turning tow- 
ards the garden where he was engaged with his httle 
corn-stalk plough, I screamed out twice with all my 
might, George ! George ! — In a moment, as I thought, 
he threw down his mimic plough, and ran to mo 
saying, " High ! Ma ! what makes you call so angry . 
'an't I a good boy — don't I always run to you soon 
as I hear you call ?" I could make no reply, but just 
threw up my arms towards the flame. He looked 
up and saw the house all on fire : but instead of 
bursting out a crying, as might have been expected 
from a child, he instantly brightened up, and seemed 
ready to fly to extinguish it. But first looking at me 
with great tenderness, he said, " Oh, Ma ! don't be 
afraid : God Almighty will help us, and we shall soon 
put it out." His looks and words revived our spirits 
in so wonderful a manner, that we all instantly set 
about to assist him. A ladder was presently brought, 
on which, as I saw in my dream, he ran up with the 
nimbleness of a squirrel ; and the servants supplied 
him with water, which he threw on the fire from an 
American gourd. But that growing weaker, the 
flame appeared to gain ground, breaking forth and 
roaring most dreadfully, which so frightened the 
servants, that many of them, like persons in despair, 
began to leave him. But he, still undaunted, conti- 
nued to ply it with water, animating the servants at 
the same time, both by his word and actions. For a 
long time the contest appeared very doubtful : but at 
length a venerable old man, with a tall cap and an 
iron rod in his hand, like a lightning rod, reached 
out to him a curious little trough, like a wooden shoe ! 
On receiving this, he redoubled his exertions, and 
soon extinguished the fire. Our joy on the occasion 
was unbounded. But he, on the contrary, showing 
no more of transport now than of terror before, looked 
rather sad at sight of the great harm that had been 
done. Then I saw in my dream that after some 
'.ime spent as in deep thought, he called out with 
6 



63 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

much joy, « Well, Ma ! now if you and the family 
will but consent, we can make a far better roof than 
this ever was ; a roof of such a quality, that if well 
kept together, it will last for ever ; but if you take it 
apart, you will make the house ten thousand timei 
■worse than it was before." 

This, though certainly a very curious dream, needs 
no Daniel to interpret it ; especially if we take Mrs. 
Washington's new house, for the young Colony 
Government — the fire on its east side, for North's civil 
war — the gourd which Washington first employed, 
for the American three and six months enlistments 
— the old man with his cap and iron rod, for Doctor 
Franklin — the shoe-like vessel which he reached to 
Washington, for the Sabot or wooden-shoed nation, 
the French, whom Franklin courted a long time for 
America — and the new roof proposed by Washington, 
for a staunch honest Republic — that " equal govern- 
ment," which, by guarding alike the welfare of all, 
ought by all to be so heartily beloved as to endure 
for ever. 

Had it been appointed unto any man to quaff un- 
mingled happiness in this life, George Washington 
had been that man. For where is that pleasurable 
ingredient with which his cup was not full a.nd over- 
flowing ? 

Crowned with honours — laden with riches — blest 
with health — and in the joyous prime of 27, sharing 
each rural sweet in the society of a charming woman 
who doated on him, he surely bid fair to spend his 
days and nights of life in ceaseless pleasure. — But 
ah ! — as sings the sweet bard of Zion, 

Our days, alas ! our mortal days, 

Are short and wretched too ! 
" Evil and few !" the Patriarch says, 

A.nd well the Patriarch knew ! 
Tis but at best, a" narrow bound, 

That Heaven allots to men ; 
And pains and sins run through the round 

Of three-score years and ten ! 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 6S 

From this, the universal lot, not Washington him- 
self could obtain exemption. For in the midst of his 
favourite labours, of the plough and pruning-hook, 
covering his extensive farms with all the varied de- 
lights of delicious fruits and golden grain, of lowing 
herds and snowy flocks, he was suddenly called on 
by his country, to turn his plough-share into a sword, 
and go forth to meet a torrent of evils which threat- 
ened her. The fountain of those evils, whence at 
length flowed the great civil war, which for ever 
separated Britain and her children, I proceed now 
briefly to state. 

After the reduction of Canada, the British oflicers 
who commanded on that expedition, came to Boston 
and New York, on a visit to their American brethren 
.n arms, who had served with them in that war. 
Soon as their arrival was announced, the Americans 
flew to meet and welcome them. They vvere'^paraded 
through the streets as the saviours of the land — the 
doors of all were thrown open to receive them — and 
every day, during their stay, was spent in feasting 
and public dinners, which, for the sake of their be- 
loved guests, were made as splendid as possible, 
though always through the aid of obliging neighbours. 
The rooms glittered with borrowed plate — wines of 
every vintage sparkled on the crowded side-boards 
— while the long extended tables were covered with 
the finest fish and flesh, succeeded by the richest des- 
serts. The British officers were equally charmed 
and astonished at such elegant hospitality, and, on 
their return to England, gave full scope to their 
feelings. They painted the colonial wealth in the 
colourings of romance ; and spoke of the Americans 
as a people, who, in comparison of the British, lived 
^ike kings. 

Thus, American hospitality, by a strange perver- 
sion, had nearly destroyed American Liberty ! For, 
from that time, the British ministry began to look 
upon the Americans with an evil eye, and to devise 



64 LIFE OF WASHIJNGTON. 

ways and means to make us " bear a part of their 
burdens!" But what did they mean by this? Did 
they mean to acknowledge us as sons of Britons ; 
equally free and independent with our brethren in 
England ? and, like them, allowed a representation 
in Parliament, who should freely vote our money for 
the common cause ? 

Oh no ! an idea so truly British and honourable, 
was not at all in their thoughts. We were hot to be 
treated as brothers, but as slaves! over whom an 
unconditional right was claimed, to tax and take our 
property at pleasure ! ! ! 

Reader, if you be a Briton, be a Briton still — pre- 
serve the characteristic calm and candour of a Briton. 
I am not about to say one word against your nation. 
No ! I know them too well : and thank God, I can 
say, after several years residence among them, I be- 
lieve them to be as honest, charitable, and magnani- 
mous a people as any under the canopy of Heaven. 
I am about to speak of the Ministry only, who cer- 
tainly, at that time, were a most ambitious and in- 
triguing junto, who by bad means had attained po vver , 
and by worse were endeavouring to extend it, even 
to the destruction of both American and British 
Liberty, as the excellent Mr. Pitt charged them. — No 
Englishm-an can desire fuller evidence than this one 
tyrannical claim made against us by Lord North — 
" taxation without representation ! !" As a plea for 
such despotic doing. North and his creatures began 
with boldly trumpeting the wonderful kindness they 
had conferred on America. " They, it seems, " first 
discovered the country ! — they settled it — they always 
had defended it. It was their blood — their treasure 
— their ships and sailors, and soldiers, that created 
\he British colonies ! ! 

dear ! — and what then ! — why, to be sure, aftei 
having done such mighty things for the Americans, 
Ihey had as clear a right to their gold and silver, as 
a butcher has to the hair and hides of his cattle ! 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 65 

This language was actually carried into Parliament! 
where a Mr. Charles Townsend, to enforce the stamp 
act,cried out, " Who are these Americans ? Are they 
not our children, planted by our care, nourished by 
our indulgence, and protected by our arms? 

At this the brave Colonel Barre, with cheeks in- 
flamed with virtuous indignation, thus thundered 
forth against the insolent speechifier. " They plant- 
ed by your care ! No, sir : your oppressions planted 
them in America. They lied from your tyranny to 
a then uncultivated and inhospitable country, where 
they exposed themselves to all the evils which a 
wilderness, filled with blood-thirsty savages, could 
threaten. And yet, actuated by true Enghsh love of 
liberty, they thought all these evils light in comparison 
with what they had suffered in their own country, 
and from you, who ought to have been their friends. 

"They nourished by your indulgence! No, sir! 
they grew by your neglect. As soon as you began 
to indulge them, that boasted indulgence was to send 
them hungry packs of your own creatures, to spy out 
their liberties ! — to misrepresent their actions — and 
to prey upon their substance ! — Yes, sir, you sent 
them men, whose behaviour has often caused the 
blood of those sons of Liberty to recoil within them — 
men promoted by you to the highest seats of justice, 
in that country, who, to my knowledge, had good 
cause to dread a court of justice in their own ! — Tiiey 
protected by your arms ! — No, sir ! They have nobly 
taken up arms in your defence ; have exerted a most 
heroic valour, amidst their daily labours, for the de- 
fence of a country whose frontier was drenched in 
blood, while its interior parts gave up all their savings 
for our emolument !" 

All this was very true. For the Americans had 
not only planted, but in a great measure protected 
themselves. In the French and Indian war, from ^55 
to '63, they lost nearly 30,000 of their stoutest young 
men ! And by regular returns it appegrrs that Mas 
6* 6 



66 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

sachusetts alone expended about 50,000/. sterling 
m that time ! ! ! And moreover, they had never hesi- 
«3,ted for a moment to famish to the last man and 
he last shilling whatever Britain had required. 

But, alas ! what signifies right against miglifc ! 
When a king wants money for his own pride, or for 
nis hungry relations, and when his ministers want 
stakes for their gaming tables, or diamond necklaces 
for their mistresses, they will have it, though plun- 
dered colonies should lack bread and spelling books 
for their children. For in the year '63, when the 
lamp of God was burning with peculiar brightness in 
our land, and both Britain and her colonies enjoyed 
a measure of blessings seldom indulged to the most 
favoured nations — w'hen, at the very mention of Old 
England, our hearts leaped for joy, as at the name 
of a great and venerable mother, and that mother 
felt equal transport at thoughts of us, her flourish 
ing colonies — when all the produce of these vast and 
fertile regions was poured into her beloved lap, and 
she in return, not allowing us the trouble to make 
even a hob-nail, heaped our families with all the 
necessaries and elegancies of her ingenious artists — 
when, though far separated by an ocean's roar, we 
were 3^et so united by love and mutual helpfulness^ 
that the souls of Columbus, Raleigh, and Smith, 
looking down from Heaven, with joy beheld the con- 
summation of all their labours and wishes ! At that 
happy period, lord North brought in a bill to tax the 
colonies, without allowing us a voice in their coun- 
cils ! ! The colonies were thunderstruck : and Britain 
herself groaning through all her islands, " gave signs 
of woe, that all was lost !" 

Doctor Franklin, who was then in England as a 
colony agent, on hearing that this most iniquitous 
bill had actually passed both houses, and was ratified 
by the king, wrote to a friend in America in these 
words — "The sun of our liberty is set. You must 
all now light up tiie double candles of Industry and 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 67 

Economy. But, above all things, encourage the 
young people to marry and raise up children as fast 
as they can." 

Meaning, that America, yet too weak to resist the 
chains which a wicked ministry were forging for her, 
should instantly fly to heaven-ordered marriage, for 
her heroic youth, to rend the ignominious bonds from 
their own and their father's arms. 

But the sons of Columbia, though few in number, 
nad too long enjoyed the sweets of Liberty and pro- 
perty to part with them so tamely, because a king 
and his minions had ordered it. No ! blessed be God, 
their conduct was such as to strike the world with 
this glorious truth, that a brave people, who know 
their rights, are not to be enslaved. 

For, soon as it Avas told in America, that the stamp- 
act had passed, the people rose up against it as one 
man — the old grudges between churchmen and dis- 
senters were instantly forgotten — every man looked 
to his fellow as to a brother for aid against the 
coming slavery—their looks on each other were as 
lightnings in a parched forest — the sacred fire kindled, 
and ran from end to end of the continent. In every 

colony the people rushed into patriotic societies 

reminded each other of their rights .... denounced 
the stamp-act as a most audacious infringement — 
burnt in effigy the promoters of it — destroyed the 
houses of those degenerated Americans who had 
received the stamps to sell — and menaced loudly a 
non-intercourse with Britian, if the act was not im- 
mediately repealed ! 

This spirited behaviour filled all England with 
amazement. Every man there, no matter what his 
principles or politics, felt it to the very quick. The 
manufacturers and merchants trembled ; the tories 
raved ; the whigs rejoiced, and, with the great Pitt 
and Burke at their head, publicly applauded the 
Americans, and denounced the stamp-act as entirely 
contrary id the spirit of British freedom. In shovt^ 



68 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the cry ag-Mnsi it was so loud, both in England and 
America, tliat the ministry, covered with shame., 
were obliged to give way, and abandon the project. 

The cloud, Wiiich had hung so dark over the two 
countries, being thus happily scattered, many began 
to cherish the hope, that we should have a clear sky 
again, and that ibe former golden da^^s would soon 
return. But alas ! those golden days were gone, to 
return no more ! Government had shown the 
cloven foot — and America had taken a fright which 
nothing but whole years of kindhest treatment could 
ever sooth. But, unfortunately, the ministry were 
in no humour to show that kindness. Long accus- 
tomed to speak of the Americans as a pack of 
"convicts, whom by transportation, they had kindly 
saved from the gallows,'^ instead of giving them 
credit for their late spirited behaviour, they consider- 
ed it as the height of audacity: and though from 
necessity they had yielded to their demands, they 
were determined to have revenge on the first 
opportunity. That opportunity was too soon af- 
forded. 

It should have been stated, that with the duty on 
stamp paper, similar duties had been laid on glass, 
lea, &c. &c., all of which had been repealed with the 
stamp act, except that on tea. This the ministry 
had artfully retained : partly to cover the shame of 
their defeat, but chiefly in hopes of familiarizing the 
Americans with taxation. For though Lord North 
w^as never, that I know of, charged with being a 
wizard, yet did he not lack sense to know that if he 
could but prevail on the young Mammoth to submit 
to a tax, though as small as a Gnat, he soon should 
bring him to swallow a Camel ! But glory to God! 
the Americans had too much of British blood, to 
allow an unconstitutional tax in any shape or size. 
Independent and coy as the birds of their forests, 
they would not suffer a stranger's hand even to 
touch tlie sacred nest of their rights. As soon there- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. G9 

fore, as the ministry began, in 1773, to order " the 
collection of taxes on tea," the colonies took fire 
again: and the old flame of '53 was completely re- 
kindled throughout the continent. But still in the 
very storm and tempest of their rage, they never lost 
sight of the respect due their mother country. Their 
numerous letters and petitions to the King, to the 
Parliament, and to the people of Britain, all, all, 
breathe the full spirit of dutiful children, and of 
loving brothers. In terms the most modest and 
pathetic, they state the extreme injustice and barbar- 
ity of such measures — their total inconsistency with 
the spirit of the British Constitution — their positive 
inadmissibility into America — or, in that event, the 
certainty of a civil war, with all its fatal effects on 
the two countries. 

Tempered with meekness, and pointed wi-th truth, 
their arguments reach the hearts of the British 
patriots, who all fly in eager myriads to extinguish 
the kindhng flames of civil war. Foremost of this 
noble band is seen the venerable form of Chatham. 
Though worn with years and infirmities, he quits 
his bed ; and, muffled up in flannels and furs, crawls 
to the house of lords, to give his last advice, and yet 
avert, if possible, the impending ruin. He rises to 
speak. A solemn silence prevails, while the looks 
of the crowded audience are bending forward upon 
him, to catch the accents of his magic tongue. His 
eyes are upon the ground : but his thoughts are not 
there : they are travelling like sun-beams over all 
the earth. Britain and America, with all their 
population and. interests, lie open before his vast 
mind, with the varied evils of the threatened war 
In Britain he beholds a fearful pause in the pulse of 
mdustry and joy — the loom is still — the anvil re 
sounds no more — while the harbours, late alive with 
bustling business and cheerful songs, now crowded 
with silent dismantled ships, present a scene of 

national mourning. In the colonies he sees the 

6* 



70 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

plains, lately crowned with joyful harvests, now 
covered with armed bands of Britons and Americans 
rushing to murderous battle — while in Europe, the 
proud Spaniard, the sarcastic Gaul, and broad grin- 
ning Hollander, with shrugs and sneers enjoy the 
coming fray, as a welcome prelude to the downfall 
of their hated rival. He next paints the Americans 
as native sons of Britain — and, at once, enthusiastic 
lovers of liberty and of their mother country — ready, 
as her children, to give her every thing; but, as her 
slaves, nothing. Though harshly treated, they still 
love her, and wish for nothii;g so much as a hearty 
reconciliation, and a glad return of all the former 
friendships and blessings. At thought of this most 
desirable of all events, the parent soul of the great 
orator is stirred within him, his angel frame trembles 
with strong feeling, which heaves his labouring 
bosom, and swells his changeful face. At length liis 
powerful words break forth. 

" For God's sake then, my lords, let the way be 
instantly opened for reconciliation. I say instantly; 
or it will be too late for ever. The Americans tell 
you — and remember, it is the language of the whole 
continent — they tell you, they will never submit to 
be taxed without their own consent. They insist 
on a repeal of your laws. They do not ask it as a 
favour. They claim it as a right. They demand it. 
— And I tell you the acts must be repealed. They 
will be repealed. You cannot enforce them. But 
bare repeal will not satisfy this enlightened and 
spirited people. What! satisfy them by repealing a 
bit of paper — by repealing a piece of parchment ! 
No ! you must declare you have no right to tax them 
Then they may trust you — then they will come into 
you. There are, my lords, three millions of v/higs 
in America. Three millions of whigs, with arms m 
their hands, are a formidable body ! There are, 1 
trust, double that number of whigs in England. 
And I hope the whigs in both countries will join and 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 71 

make a common cause. They are united by the 
strongest ties of sentiment and interest ; and will 
therefore, I hope, fly to support their brethren. In 
this most alarming and distracted state of our affairs, 
though borne down by a cruel disease, I have crawl- 
ed to this house, my lords, to give you my best 
advice, which is, to beseech his majesty that orders 
may instantly be dispatched to General Gage to 
remove the troops from Boston. Their presence is a 
source of perpetual irritation and suspicion to those 
people. How can they trust you, with the bayonet 
at their breasts ? They have all the reason in the 
world to believe that you mean their death or slavery. 
Let us then set to this business in earnest. There is 
no time to be lost. Every moment is big with dan- 
ger. Nay, wiiile I am now speaking, the decisive 
blow may be struck, and millions involved in the 
dreadful consequences ! The very first drop of 
blood that is drawn, will make a wound perhaps 
never to be healed — a wound of such rancorous 
malignity, as will, in all probability, mortify the 
whole body, and hasten, both on England and 
America, that dissolution to which all nations are 
destined." 

Here was a speech, sufficient, one would have 
thought, to stop the career of the maddest politicians. 
— But neither this, nor the advice of lord Camden, 
nor the numerous and pathetic addresses from Lon- 
don, Liverpool, and Jamaica, could produce the least 
change in the views of the ministry. " Let the 
Americans," said lord Gower v/ith a sneer, " sit 
talking about their natural rights! their divine rights! 
and such stuff! we will send them over a {e\v regi- 
ments of grenadiers to help their consultations !" 
Thus high-toned was the language of ministry, and 
thus stoutl)^ bent on the submission of the Ameri- 
cans. Indeed, in some instances, they would not 
honour them so far as to give their " humble peti- 
tions" a reading ; but consigned them to what the 



73 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

whig opposition pleasantly called, " the committee of 
oblivion.*' 

The tea-tax was, of course, at any rate to be col 
lected. But as there could be no tax without tea, nor 
tea unless it was sent, several ships of that obnoxious 
weed were purposely dispatched for America. Lord 
Fairfax happened to be at Mount Vernon when 
Washington received advice from a friend in London 
th:xt the tea-ships were about to sail. ..." Well, my 
lord," said he, " and so the ships, with the gun-pow- 
der tea, are, it seems, on their way to America !" 

"Well, but colonel, why do you call it gunpowder 
tea." 

" Why, I am afraid, my lord," replied Washing- 
ton, " it will prove inflammable, and produce an 
explosion that will shake both countries." 

The event corresponded with Washington's pre- 
diction. Looked on as sent to insult and enslave 
them, the ships were every where received with the 
heartiest curses of the people, who quickly boarded 
them — in some places furiously emptying their fra- 
grant cargoes into the flashing deep ; — in others, 
sternly ordering the captains to depart, under the pen- 
alty of being instantly tucked up to the yard arms. 

On the arrival of this news in England, the counte- 
nance of the minister was dark with fury ; and he 
proceeded, without delay, to mix up for the colonies 
a cup of fiery indignation, of which Boston, it seems, 
was to have the largest dose. As that most unduti- 
ful child had always led off the dance in outrage and 
rebellion against the parent state, it was determined 
that she should pay the piper for old and new, . . that 
her purse should answer for all the tea that had been 
destroyed . . . that her luxuriant trade, which had 
made her so wanton, should be taken from her — and, 
that, in spite of her high looks and proud stomach, 
she should sit on the stool of repentance, until his 
gracious majesty, George III. should be pleased to 
pronounce her pardon ! ' 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 73 

On the receipt of this inteUigeiice at Boston, the 
passions of the people flew up, five hundred degrees 
above blood-heat ! throughout the continent the fever 
raged with equal fury. The colonies all extolled 
Boston for the firmness with which she had asserted 
her chartered rights .... Liberal contributions were 
made for her relief: and this ministerial attack on her 
liberties, was considered as an attack on the liberties 
of the whole, which were now thought to be in such 
danger, as loudly to call for a general congress from 
all the colonies, to deliberate on their common in- 
terest. This most unkingly body commenced its 
session in Philadelphia, September 5th, 1774. They 
began with publishing a bill of rights, wherein they 
repeated " their loyalty and love to the mother coun- 
try, together with an earnest wish for constitutional 
dependence on her. But, at the same time, they 
begged leave to assure her, that though she, in her 
excessive fondness, might suffer herself to be bound 
and insulted by North and Bute, and other Philistine 
lords, yet they, for their parts, were resolved, like 
true sons of British Sampsons, to rise and fight to 
the last locks of their heads. They asserted, and 
begged leave to do it pretty roundly too, as it was 
now high time to speak plain, that by the immutable 
laws of nature — by the principles of the British 
constitution — and by their several charters, they 
had a right to liberty, the liberty of British subjects 
— that their ever honored fathers, at the time of their 
emigration to this country, were entitled to all the 
rights of freemen — and since, by such emigration 
they had neither forfeited nor surrendered these 
rights — that they their children, were determined, at 
the risk of every thing short of their eternal salvation, 
to defend and to transmit them entire to their inno- 
cent and beloved oflspring." 

Millions of choice spirits in England, Scotknd, 
and Ireland, cried out " that's well said ! and may 
God's arms strike with our American brethren !" 
7 



74 LIFE OF WASHIxNGTON. 

This was commg to the point, and produce'd the 
effect that might have been expected. For, instantly 
all exportation of arms and ammunition to America 
was prohibited — large reinforcements were sent to 
the king's troops at Boston — and every step was 
taken to compel the colonies to submission. This 
filled up the measure of American hatred to the 
ministry, and called forth the most vigorous prepara 
tions for war. Every ounce of gunpowder was hus- 
banded like so much gold-dust. Powder-mills and 
musket-manufactories were erected in most of the 
colonies ; while others, not hking this slow way of 
doing things, laid violent hands at once upon all the 
king's arms and ammunition that could be found. 

The tremendous cloud of civil war was now 
ready to burst : and April the 19th, 1775, was the 
fatal day marked out by mysterious heaven, for 
tearing away the stout infant colonies from the long- 
loved paps of the old mother country. Early that 
morning, general Gage, whose force in Boston was 
augmented to 10,000 men, sent a detachment of 1000 
to destroy some military stores which the Americans 
had collected in the town of Concord, near Lexing- 
ton. On coming to the place, they found the town 
militia assembled on the green near the road. ''Throw 
down your arms, and disperse, you rebels," was the 
cry of Pitcairn the British officer ; which was imme- 
diately followed by a general discharge of the soldiers; 
whereby eight of the Americans were killed, and 
several wounded. The provincials retired. Bui 
finding that the British still continued their fire, they 
returned it with good interest ; and soon strewed the 
green with the dead and wounded. Such fierce dis- 
charges of musketry produced the effect that might 
have been expected in a land of freemen, who saw 
their gallant brothers suddenly engaged m the strife 
of death. Never before had the bosoms of the swains 
experienced such a tumult of heroic passions. Then 
brewing aside the implements of husbandry, and 




BATTLE OF LEXINGTON. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 77 

lea\'mg their teams in the half-fini^ed furrows, they 
flew to their houses ; snatched up their arms ; and 
bursting from their wild shrieking wives and children^ 
hasted to the glorious field, where liberty, heaven 
born goddess, was to be bought for blood. Pouring 
in now from every quarter, were seen crowds of 
sturdy peasants, with flushed cheeks and flaming 
eyes, eager for battle ! Even age itself forgot its 
wonted infirmities : and hands, long palsied with 
years, threw aside the cushioned crutch, and grasped 
the deadly firelock. Fast as they came up, their 
ready muskets began to pour the long red streams 
of fiery vengeance. The enemy fell back, apalled ! 
The shouting farmers, swift closing on their rear, 
followed their steps with death, while the British, as 
fast as they could load, wheeling on their pursuers, 
returned the deadly platoons. Like some tremendous 
whirlwind, whose roaring sweep all at once darkens 
the day, riding the air in tempests ; so sudden and 
terrible, amidst clouds of dust, and smoke, and flame, 
the flight of Britain's warriors thundered along the 
road. But their flight was not in safety. Every 
step of their retreat was stained with the trickling 
crimson. Every hedge or fence by which they pas- 
sed, took large toll of hostile carcasses. They would, 
m all probability, have been cut off" to a man, had 
not general Gage, luckily recollected, that, born of 
Britons, these Yankees might possess some of the 
family valour; and therefore sent 1000 men to sup- 
port the detachment. This reinforcement met the 
poor fellows, faint with fear and fatigue, and brought 
them safely ofl" to Boston. 

In this their first field, the American farmers 
gleaned of the British about sixty-three, in slain, and 
two hundred and eighty wounded and prisoners. 
The fire of civil discord now broke out a roaring 
flame : and, with equal ardour, both parties hastened 
to clap on the " kettle of war.'' 

National prejudices ought to be scouted from the 
7* 



78 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

face of the eartlj. Colonel Grant actiiall}^ said ir? 
parliament, that " witl^ fiv^e regiments he could march 
through all America ! ! !" Oh ! had that profound 
philosopher but beheld the scrub race above, he 
might have learned two things — first, that he was 
never born to be a prophet. And secondly, that as it 
is not to this or that country exclusively, that we are 
to look for brave men, but in every country where 
tile people are accustomed to breathe the proud air 
of liberty, and to rejoice in the sweet fruits of their 
labours as all their own. 

Soon as the battle of Lexington was told to the 
astonished ministry in England, a grand caucus of 
lords was held, to consider the best ways and means 
to bring the,rebels to their senses. " One spoke after 
this manner, and another after that. Presently up 
rose lord George Germaine, and with all Moloch in 
his looks, hurled the curses of Amalek against the 
Americans. " Vengeance ! gentlemen !" he cried, 
" vengeance ! your insulted island — your wounded 
honour — your murdered countrymen — all cry havoc ' 
and bid slip the dogs of war. Gods ! can we sit de- 
bating here, when rank rebellion lords it over our 
colonies, and the tongues of rebel curs are red in the 
blood of our bravest soldiers slain. No ! let our 
swift-avenging armies fly across the ocean, and light- 
ing like a tornado on the rebel continent, from end 
to end, with fire and sword sweep both town and 
country before them." 

Here the celebrated Mr. Wilkes, in the spirit of a 
true Briton, roared out : " Aye, that's right ! that's 
right ! lord George ! that's exactly according to our 

old English proverb the greater the coward, the 

crueller the devil !" 

" Coward ! Sir !" repUed lord George, black with 
rage. " Coward ! what do you mean by that, sir ?" 

"I mean, sir," returned Mr. Wilkes, "that the 
hero who could not stand fire on the plains of Minden, 
does well to advise fire and sword in the woods of 
America '' 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 79 

Upon this, the unlovely names of liar and scoun- 
tlre. were exchanged with a freedom which showed 
that in the quarrel with America the passions of the 
two parties knew no bounds. Happily for America, 
this spirit of Mr. Wilkes was not peculiar to him- 
self. Thousands of enlightened and virtuous whigs 
breathed it with equal ardour. The gallant duke of 
Buckingham, on hearing how bravely the Ameri- 
cans had behaved at Lexington, exclaimed, " Well, 
thank God ! there are yet some veins in the world 
that beat high with British blood !" 

Lord Effingham, also, being required to take up 
arms against the Americans, returned his sword to 
the king, saying, " he had received it on oath, to 
maintain the cause of justice, not of oppression ! !" 

But though the right heads in England were nu- 
merous, they were not sufficiently so to direct the 
wrong heads. A feeble minister, and his puny 
lordlings, still held the reins: and though, compared 
with the great nation which they governed, they 
seemed but as monkeys on the back of a mammoth, 
yet they had, too long, the fatal art so to blindfold 
and goad the noble animal, as to make her run riot 
over her own children, and crush thousands of them 
into their bloody graves. 

On this day, June 12, 1775, General Gage issued 
his proclam.ation of rebellion, with threats of heaviest 
vengeance against the rebels ; extending however in 
the king's name, the golden sceptre of mercy to all 
true penitents, Samuel Adams, and John Hancock, 
excepted. These gentlemen, by their extraordinary 
zeal in the cause of liberty, had so mortally offended 
the ministry, that nothing short of their lives could 
make atonement. Orders were sent privately to 
General Gage, to seize and hang them in Boston, or 
to send them over in irons to be hung in England. 
But God gave his angels charge of them, so that not 
a hair of their heads was hurt. 

The British, 10,000 strong, were still in Boston, 

7 



80 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

where, ever since the affair of Concord, they had 
been surrounded by an army of 20,000 provincials, 
all so eager to take the city by storm, that it was 
with the greatest difficulty their officers could res- 
train them. 

How adorable the goodness of God for ordering 
that the ministerial attack on our hberties, should fall 
on the populous and high-toned New-Englanders ! 
The heroic spirit with which they repelled it, should 
to eternity, endear them to their southern brethren. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Battle of Bunker's-hill — of Sullivan's Island — Declaration of Inde- 
pendence — Defeat of the Americans on Long-Island — Howe 
threatens violently — Times squally. 

And fame of Bunker's hill endure, 

Till time itself shall be no more. 

This hill of fame still lifts its yellow brow, half 
hid in sedge, on the plains of Charlestown — a lovely 
port north of Boston, to which it is united by an ele- 
gant bridge. To confine the British as closely as 
possible to Boston, the American generals, on the 
night of June 16, despatched 1500 men to throw up 
an entrenchment on Bunker's-hill. The party did 
not begin their work till about 12 o'clock ; but ex- 
erted such a spirit, that, by day-break, they had sur- 
rounded themselves with a tolerably decent ditch — 
without embrasures indeed, because they had no 
cannon to stare through them ; nor even a bayonet 
to bristle over its ridges. 

Soon as the rosy morn appeared, they were disco- 
vered by the British men of war, which quickly salut- 
ed them with their great guns and mortars. But, re- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 81 

gardless of shells and shot, the dauntless Yankees 
still drank their Switchel* and plied their work. 

Finding that his ships of war, with all their thun 
ders, had not been able to dislodge them, Gage or- 
dered to their aid 3000 men with a train of artillery, 
nnder command of Generals Howe and Pigot. By 
twelve o'clock they were all safely landed on the 
Charlestown side, near Bunker's-hill, the destined 
place of storm. An interesting scene is now about 
to open — for not only the British and American 
armies from the neighbouring heights, are eagerly 
looking on ; but all the surrounding country, timely 
alarmed, are running together, in terror, to behold 
the coming fight. Among the crowding spectators 
are seen thousands of tender females, with panting 
bosoms and watery eyes, fixed upon the fields below, 
anxiously waiting the fate of their brothers, fathers, 
and husbands. After a hurried moment spent in 
forming, the British troops began to advance in 
heavy columns, with all the martial pomp of flying 
colours and rattling drums. At the same time, by 
order of Gage, the beautiful port of Charlestown, of 
300 fine buildings, with a tall steepled church, was 
wrapped in flames, roaring like distant thunder, and 
tossed on eddying winds in fiery billows to the 
clouds — while, far and wide, the adjoining plains are 
covered with British soldiers in crimson regimentals 
and shming arms, moving on the attack with inces- 
sant discharges of muskets and great guns. Close, 
on the brow of the hill, appears the little fort, dimly 
seen through smoke, and waved over by one solitary 
flag, and very unlike to stand the shock of so power- 
ful an armament. But the Americans are all wound 
up to the height of the enthusiasm of Liberty : and, 



* A mild and moralizing malmsey, made of molasses and water, 
which the prudent Yankees drink, to the great benefit of their health 
and senses, while too many of their southern neighbours are Wfool 
ing and bc-poisoning themselves with grog. 



S2 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

iying close behind their works, with fowling pieces 
loaded with ball and buckshot, wait impatiently for 
the approaching enemy. Their brave countrymen^ 
Putnam and Warren, are in the fort, constantly 
reminding them of that glorious inheritance, Liberty, 
which they received from their gallant fathers, and 
now owe to their own dear children. " Don't throw 
away a single shot, my brave fellows," said old Put- 
nam. "Don't throw away a single shot; but take 
good aim: nor touch a trigger, till you can see the 
whites of their eyes." 

Tliis steady reserve of fire, even after the British 
had come up within pistol-shot, led them to hope 
that the Americans did not mean to resist, and many 
of their friends on the heights had nearly given up 
all for lost. But as soon as the enemy were advanced 
within the fatal distance marked, all at once a thou- 
sand triggers were drawn : and a sheet of tire, wide 
as the whole front af the breast- work, bursted upon 
them with most ruinous eifect. The British instantly 
came to a halt — still keeping up their fire — but alto- 
gether at random and ineffectual, like men in a panic. 
While full exposed, within point-blank shot, ranks 
on ranks fell before the American marksmen, as the 
heavy-eared corn before the devouring hail storm, 
when with whirlwind rage it smites the trembling 
earth, and rushes on, smoking and roaring through 
the desolated fields. The ejiemy still maintained 
their ground like Britons, though all in front was 
nothing but one wide destructive flash ; and nought 
around but heaps of their shrieking, dying comrades. 
But in a few minutes the slaughter became so 
general, that they could stand it no longer, but broke 
and fled in the utmost disorder, to the shore side; and 
some even took refuge in their boats ! Their oflicers 
with some difficulty brought them back to a second 
charge, when the Americans, waiting till they had 
come up within a few rods of the fort, recommenced 
their fire, with a mortality which broke and drove 




BATTLE OF BUNKEr's HILL. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 85 

them again. Some of the officers attempted to bring 
tnem on a third time , but others cried out, " that it 
was no better than murder !" It is probable they 
would hardly have made another effort, had not the 
generals Chnton and Burgoyne, spectators of their 
defeat, hastened over from Boston with fresh troops 
to their aid. 

The Americans, being nearly destitute of ammuni- 
tion, and attacked by such superior force, were 
obliged to retreat, which they did in tolerable order, 
but not till they had given the enemy, as they 
mounted the works, their last cartridges, and to some 
of them the buts of their guns — for want of bayonets. 
The British, 'tis true, by such great advantage of 
numbers and weapons, gained the day; but sung no 
te deum. To have given 1350 men killed and 
wounded, for a poor ditch of 12 hours labour, 
seemed to them a bargain hardly worth thanking 
God for. 

Among the Heroes whom this day immolated on 
the altar of Patriotism, was Dr. Joseph Warren, 
whose memory will be held sacred as long as grati- 
tude or honour live among men. The British lost 
Major Pitcairn, author of the murders at Lexington, 
a few weeks before ! 

During the autumn and wmterof 1775, Washing- 
ton could effect nothing against the British, but to 
hold them close confined in Boston, where the scurvy 
prevailed, and proved very fatal. To remedy this 
evil, immense quantities of livestock and vegetables 
were shipped from Britain — 5,000 fat oxen; 14,000 
sheep — 12,000 hogs, with 22,000 pounds sterUng 
worth of sour-crout ! ! ! And nearly the same amount 
in hay, oats and beans, for a single regiment of 
cavalry !! "Blessed are the meek!" for they shall 
save a world of expense. 

In consequence of some disturbances this year, m 
South Carolina, in favour of the ministry. Sir Peter 
Parker was dispatched with nine ships of war, and 



86 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

a large land force, commanded by Clinton and Corn 
•wallis, to make an attempt on Charleston, the capi. 
tal. Before the ships could be brought to pay their 
respects to the town, they must, it seems, pass a 
little fort on Sullivan's Island. This, however, 
being defended only by raw militia, was hardly 
looked on as an obstacle. Happily for America, the 
command of the fort had been com^mitted to General 
Moultrie ; for the chief in command. Gen. Charles 
Lee, though otherwise brave, was ever in the frights 
at the thought of a British man of war ; and for a 
general, much too free in lendmg his fear to others. 
For, while Moultrie was showing him the fort, and 
in the language of a fiery patriot was boasting what 
handsome resistance he hoped it would make ; Lee 
with infinite scorn replied, " Pshaw ! a mere slaughter 
.house! a mere slaughter house! a British man of 
war will knock it about your ears in half an hour!'' 
He even proposed to abandon the fort ! The 
courage of one man saved Charleston, and perhaps 
the State. That fortunate man was John Rutledge, 
Esq., governor of South Carolina. He insisted that 
the fort should be defended to the last extremity. 
Moultrie was called in. " Well, General Moultrie," 
said Gov. Rutledge, " what do you thmk of giving 
up the fort !" Moultrie could scarcely suppress his 
indignation. " No man, sir," said he to Lee, " can 
have a higner opinion of the British ships and sea- 
men than I have. But there are others who love 
the smell of gunpowder as well as they do ; and 
give us but plenty of poAvder and ball, sir, and let 
them come on as soon as they please." His courage 
was quickly put to the test ; for about 10 o'clock, on 
the 28th of June, in the glorious 1776, Sir Peter 
Parker, with seven tall ships formed his line, and 
bearing down within point-blank shot of the fort, let 
go his anchors and began a tremendous fire. At 
every thundering blast he fondly hoped to see the 
militia take to the sands like frightened rats from an 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 87 

old barn on fire. But, undely different from hiy 
hopes, the militia stood their ground, firm as tlif< 
Black-jaclcs of their land ; and levelling their four, 
and-twenty pounders with good aim, bored the olo 
hearts of oak through and through at every fire 
Their third broadside carried away the springs on 
the cables of the commodore's ship, which immedia- 
tely swung around right stern upon the guns of the 
fort — " Hurra ! my sons of thunder," was instantly 
the cry along the American battery, " look hand- 
somely to the commodore ! now my boys, for your 
best respects to the commodore !" Little did the 
commodore thank them for such respects ; for in a 
short time he had 60 of his brave crew lying lifeless 
on his decks, and his cockpit stowed with the wound 
ed. At one period of the action, the quarter-deck 
v/as cleared of every soul, except Sir Peter himself. 
Nor was he entirely excused ; for an honest cannon 
ball, by way of broad hint that it was out of charac- 
ter for a 13riton to fight against liberty, rudely 
snatched away the bag of his silk breeches. Thus 
Sir Peter had the honour to be the first, and I believe 
the only Sans Culotte ever heard of in American 
natural history ! ! 

The Americans stood the fire like Salamanders ; 
for the neighbouring shores were lined with thousands 
of their dearest relatives, anxiously looking on ! the 
British tars, poor fellows ! had no sisters, mothers, 
nor wives, spectators of their strife ; but fought, not- 
withstanding, with their wonted heroism. Long 
accustomed to mastery in battles with the French 
and greatly out-numbering the fort both in men and 
guns, they counted on certain victory ; and though 
drreadfully handled, scorned to yield. Immense 
were the exertions on both sides ; and while the 
powder of the fort lasted, the conflict was awfully 
grand — From ships to fort, and from fort to ships 
again, all below seemed one stream of solid fire ; ail 
Sibore, one vast mountain of smoke darkening the 



88 JJFE OF WASHINGTON. 

day, while unintermitted bursts of thunder deafened 
all ears, and far around shook both land and sea. 

The heroes in the fort won immortal honour. One 
brave fellow, a Sergeant Jasper, observing the flag- 
staff shot away, jumped down from the fort on the 
beach, in the hottest fury of the battle, and snatching 
up he flag, returned it to its place, streaming defi- 
ance, with a — "Hurra, my boys, hberty and America 
for ever." Governor Rutledge rewarded him with a 
sword. Another Sergeant, JVPDonald, while roaring 
away with his 24 pounder, was terribly shattered by 
a cannon ball. When about to expire, he lifted up 
his dying eyes and said — " My brave countrymen, I 
die ; but don't let the cause of Liberty die with me." 
Now louder and louder still, peal on peal, the Ame- 
rican thunder burst forth with earth-trembling crash- 
es : and the British ships, after a long and gallant 
struggle, hauled off v/ith a good fortnight's worth of 
work for surgeons, carpenters and riggers. 

Sir Peter was so dumb-founded by this drubbing, 
that it took him full eight-and forty-hours to recover 
his stomach for his beef and pudding. So wonderful- 
ly had it let him down, that even his black pilots grew 
impudent upon him. For as he was going out over 
the bar, he called to Cudjo (a black fellov/, a pilot 
who was sounding the depth of the water) " Cud- 
jo ! (says he) what water have you got there ?" 

" What water, massa ? what water ? why salt 
water, be sure, sir ? — sea water al way salt water, an't 
he, massa ?" 

" You black rascal, I knew it was salt water. 1 
only wanted to know how much water you have 
there ?" 

" How much water here, massa ? how much water 
here ! God bless me, massa ! where I going get quart 
pot for measure him ?" 

This was right down impudence; and Cudjo richly 
deserved a rope's end for it ; but Sir Peter, a good 
naturod man, was so tickled with the idea of measur- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 89 

ing the Atlantic ocean with a quart pot, tnat he broke 
into a hearty laugh, and ordered Cudjo a stiff drink 
of grog. 

'Twas the celebrated Samuel Chase, the Demos- 
thenes of Maryland, who first taught the startler, 
vaults of Congress hall to re-echo the name of Inde 
pendence. After enumerating many a glaring m 
stance of mmisterial violation of American rights- 
on all of which George III., the expected father ol 
his people, had looked with a most unfatherly calm- 
ness — his countenance became like the dark stormy 
cloud edged with lightning — then swinging his arm 
m the air, with a tremendous stamp and voice of 
thunder, that made the hollow dome resound, he 

swore a mighty oath, "that he owed no allegiance 

to the king of England !" 

Many in Congress trembled ac hearing such a 
speech ; and, on mention of Independence, felt the 
pang which nature feels when soul and body are 
parting. But fearing that "true friendship could 
never grow again, where wounds of deadly hate had 
pierced so deep," they at length resolved to part. 
The gentlemen appointed by Congress to frame the 
declaration of Independence, were Thomas Jeffer- 
son, John Adams, Dr. Franklin, R. Sherman and 
R. Livingston. On hearing their nomination to a 
task so high and arduous, they met ; and after some 
conversation on the subject, parted, under the agree- 
ment that each of their number should draft his own 
declaration, and read it next day, in rotation to the 
rest. At the fixed hour next day, they met — but. 
" who should read first," was the question. Mr. 
Jefferson was fixed on ; and, after much importunity, 
consented to read his form, Avhich had the honour to 
give such complete satisfaction, that none other was 
read. 

A few days after this, Lord Howe came upon the 
coast with a forest of men of war and transports, 
shading far and wide the frightened ocean, and 

8* 



90 LIFE OB^ WASHINGTON. 

beaiing nearly 40,000 men, British, Hessians, and 
Waldeckers. Supposing that this had intimidated 
tlie American commander, Lord Howe wrote a letter 
to him, directed — " George Washington, Esq.'' This 
the general refused to receive ! looking on it as an 
insult to Congress under whom he had the honour to 
bear the commission of Commander hi Chief, and 
should have been addressed as such. General Howe 
then sent an officer (Colonel Patterson) to converse 
witli him on the subject of reconciliation — Having 
heard what he had to say, Washington replied, " by 
what has yet appeared, sir, you have no power bul 
to grant pardons. But we who have committed no 
faults, want no pardons ; for we are only fighthig 
for our rights as the descendants of Englishmen." 

The unfortunate defeat of Long-Island now took 
place on August 28th, which though the hottest day 
in the year, had like to have been the freezing point 
in the American affairs. For on this day, the British, 
with an infinite superiority of force, after having de- 
feated the Americans with great loss, were investing 
the slender remains of their army ; and had actually 
broke ground within six hundred yards of the little 
redoubt that feebly covered their front. Soon as it 
was dark, Washington ordered the troops to convey 
their baggage and artillery to the water side, whence 
it Avas transported over a broad ferry all night long, 
v/ith amazing silence and order. Providentially a 
thick fog continued next morning till ten o'clock ; 
when that passed away, and the sun broke out, the 
British were equally surprised and enraged to see the 
rear guard with the last of the baggage in their boats, 
and out of ail danger. 

.Lord Howe, supposing that such a run of misfor- 
tunes must have put congress into a good humour to 
thiiik about peace, signified a wilhngness to have a 
giand talk on the subject. Congress sent Dr. Frank- 
iui, Mr. Adams, and Mr. Rutledge, each with his 
belt of wampum. But finding that his lordship was 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 91 

Btill harping on the old stnng, pardons ! pardons * 
they very soon closed the conference. 

Towards tlie close of the trying campaign, it is a 
fact, that Washington had not 3000 men ; and even 
these were so destitute of necessaries, that nothing 
but their love and veneration for him kept them to- 
gether. And with this handful he had to oppose a 
victorious army, of nearly forty thousand veterans ! I 
But Jehovah, the God of Hosts, was with him : and 
oft' times, in the ear of the slumbering hero, his voice 
was heard, " fear not ; for I am with thee. Be not 
dismayed; for I am. thy God." — Hence under all 
the disheartening circumstances of this campaign, 
Washiiigton not only kept up his own spirits, but 
cheered those of his drooping comrades. Hearing 
his officers one day taJk about the gloominess of the 
American affiairs, he humorously clasped his necb 
with his hands, and said with a smile, " I really can 
not believe yet, that my neck was ever made for a 
halter!" 

For four months during the summer and fall oi 
177G, the Americans were obliged to retreat before 
the enemy, who completely over-ran the Jerseys, fill- 
ing every town and hamlet with their victorious 
troops — During their pursuit through the Jerseys, the 
behaviour of the Hessians towards the country peo- 
ple was barbarous in the extreme. To make them 
fight the better, it seems that they had been told that 
the Americans, against whom they were warring, 
were not (like the Europeans) Christians and gentle- 
men, but mere savages, a race of Cannibals, who 
would not only tomahawk a poor Hessian, and haul 
off his hide for a drum's head, but would just as leave 
barbacue and eat him as they would a pig. " Vat I 
Vat !" cried the Waldeckers, with eyes staring wild 
and big as billiard bails, " Vat ! eat Hessian man up 
.'ike vun hog ! Oh mine God and Vader ! vot peoples 
ever been heard of eat Christian man before ' Vy ' 
shure, des Mericans must be de deble." 



92 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

This was Hessian logic ; and it inspired them with 
the utmost abhorrence of the Americans, to whom 
they thought the worst treatment much too good — 
they burnt iiouses — destroyed furniture — killed the 
stock — abused the women ! and spread consterna- 
tion and ruin along all their march. 

To save their families from such horrid tragedies, 
the Americans flocked in by thousands to general 
Elowe, to take the oath of allegiance. And the best 
judges were of opinion, that this alarming apostacy 
would soon become general throughout the two great 
states of Pennsylvania and New-Jersey ! And indeed 
no wonder ; for to most people it appeared that the 
cause of liberty was a gone cause. But, still firm as 
the iron rudder-bands that maintain the course of the 
ship in her trembhng flight over raging seas, so firm- 
ly did Washington cleave to his countrymen, and 
cover their retreat. 

They had been obliged to retreat from Long- 
Island to New- York, from New- York, over the Hud- 
son, to New- Jersey, and now over the Delaware, to 
Pennsylvania. *« My God V general Washington, 
'* how long shall we retreat ?" said general Reed, 
" where shall we stop ?" " Why sir,'' replied Wash- 
ington, " if we can do no better, we'll retreat over 
every river in America ; and last of all over the 
mountains, whence we shall never lack opportunities 
to annoy, and finally, I hope, to expel the enemies 
of our country." 

But, God be thanked, our toils and trials were not 
to be pushed to such sad extremities : for general 
Howe, having driven the Americans to the western 
side of the Delaware, stationed 4000 men in Trenton, 
Bordentown, and Burlington, on its eastern bank j 
and then returned with the main army to eat their 
w inter puddings in Brunswick and New-York. Here 
Washington, with joy, first discovered an opportu- 
nity to make a blow. Not doubting, but that such 
a long rrin of success had taught the enemy to think 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 93 

very highly of themselves, and as meanly of the 
Americans ; and suspecting, too, that at Christmas, 
which was close at hand, instead of watching and 
praying like good Christians, they would, very like- 
ly, be drinking and hopping like fools, he determined 
then and there if possible to break up their winter 
quarters. To this end he broke his little remnant 
of an army into tlu'ee divisions ; two of which he 
committed to Generals Ewing and Cadwallader to 
attack at Bordentown and Burlington. The third he 
meant to lead in person to the heavier charge on 
Trenton. Every thing being in readiness by Christ- 
mas night, as soon as it was dark, they struck their 
tents, and moved off in high spirits, once more to try 
their fortune against an enemy long victorious. But 
alas ! the enthusiasm of the gallant Cadv/allader and 
Ewing was soon arrested; for on arriving at the 
river, they found it so filled with ice, as to preclude 
all possibility of crossing. Thus, to their inexpressi- 
ble grief, was blasted the ardent wish to aid their 
beloved chief in this his last bold attempt to save 
America. Ignorant of the failure of two-thirds ot 
his plan, Washington and his little forlorn hope, 
pressed on through the darksome night, pelted by an 
incessant storm of hail and snow. On approaching 
the river, nine miles above Trenton, they heard the 
unwelcome roar of ice, loud crashing along the angry 
flood. But the object before them v/as too vast to 
allow one thought about difficulties. The troops 
were instantly embarked, and after five hours of in- 
finite toil and danger, landed, some of them frost 
bitten, on the same shores with the enemy. Form- 
ing the line, they renewed their march. Pale, and 
slowly moving along the neighbouring hills was seen, 
(by Fancy's eye) the weeping genius of liberty. 
Driven from the rest of the world, she had fled to the 
wild woods of America, as to an assured asylum of 

rest. Here she fondly hoped, through long 

unfailing time, to see her children pursuing theij 

8 



94 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

cheerful toils, niistarved and uncrushed by the inhu 
man few. But alas ! the inhuman few, with fleets 
and armies, had pursued her flight ! Her sons had 
gathered around her, but thej' had failed — some, on 
their bloody beds ; others dispersed ; all desponding 
One little band alone remained ! and, now, resolved 
to defend her or perish, were in rapid march to face 
her foes. Pale and in tears, with eyes often lifted to 
Heaven, she moved along with her children to wit- 
ness perhaps the last conflict. 

The Sun had just tipped with gold the adjacent 
hills, when snowy Trenton, with the wide-tented 
fields of the foe, hove in sight. To the young in arms 
this was an awful scene : and Nature called a short 
lived terror to their hearts. But not unseen of 
Washington was their fear. He marked the sudden 
paleness of their cheeks, when first they beheld the 
enemy, and quick, with half-stifled sighs, turned on 
him their wistful looks. As the big lion of Zara, 
calling his brindled sons to battle against the mighty 
rhinoceros, if he mark their falling manes, and sees 
them crouching to his side, instantly puts on all his 
ferrors — liis eyes roll in blood — he shakes the forest 
with the deepening roar, till, kindled by their father's 
fire, the maddening cubs swell with answering rage, 
and spring undaunted on the monster. Thus stately 
and terrible rode Columbia's first and greatest son, 
along the front of his halting troop's. The eager 
wish for battle flushed over his burning face, as, rising 
on his stirrups, he waved his sword towards the 
hostile camp, and exclaimed, " There ! my brave 
friends ! there are the enemies of your country ! and 
now, all I ask of you, is, just to remember what you 
are about to fight for. March !" His looks and 
voice rekindled all their fire, and drove them undaunt- 
ed to the charge. The enemy saw their danger 
when it was too late ! but, as if resolved by taxing 
their courage,topayfor their carelessness, they roused 
the thunder of their drums, and flew to arms. But 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON 95 

before they could form, the Americans, led on by 
Washington, advanced upon them in a stream ol 
hghtning, which soon decided tiie contest. By the 
musket of the intrepid captain (now General) Frehng- 
liuysen, of New Jersey, fell Col. Rahl, a brave Ger- 
man who commanded the enemy. The ghosts of forty 
of his countrymen accompanied him ; and very nearly 
one thousand were made prisoners. Five lumdred 
J3ritish horse effected their escape to Bordentown. 
Could Ewmg and Cadwallader have crossed the 
river, agreeably to Washington's plan, the enemy's 
whole line of cantonments would have been com 
pletely swept ! ! 

To rouse his desponding countrymen Washington 
inmied lately marched down to Philadelphia, and 
made triumphal entry with his prisoners, preceded 
by their cannon and colours, and wagons, bristling 
with muskets and bayonets. The poor tories couid 
scarcely believe their own eyes. Many of the whigs 
v/ept for joy. 

To remove from the minds of the Hessians, their 
ill-grounded dread of the Americans, Washington 
took great care, from the moment they fell into his 
hands,to have them treated with the utmost tenderness 
and generosity. He contrived that the wealthy Dutch 
farmers should come in from the country and converse 
with them. They seemed very agreeably surprised 
at such friendly attentions. The Dutchmen at length 
proposed to them to quit the British service and 
become farmers. — At this the Hessians paused a little 
and said something about parting with their country. 

*' Your country !" said the farmers. " Poor fel- 
lows ! where is your country? You have no country. 
To support his pomps and pleasures your prince has 
torn you from your country, and for 30/. a-head sole 
you like slaves to fight against us, who neve! 
troubled you. Then leave the vile employment anc 
come live with us. Our lands are rich. Come help 
us 'o cultivate them Our tables are covered with 



^6 ^ hlFE OF WASHINGTON. 

fat meats, and with milk and honey. Come sit down 
and eat with us like brothers. Our daughters are 
young and beautiful and good. Then shew your- 
selves worthy, and you shall have our daughters : 
and we will give you of our lands and cattle, that 
you njay work, and become rich and happy as we 
are. You were told that General Washington and 
the Americans were savages and would devour you! 
But from the moment you threw down your arms^ 
have they not been as kind to you as you had any 
right to expect ?" 

" yes !" cried they, " and a thousand times 
more kind than we deserved. We were told the 
Americans would show us no pity, and so we were 
cruel to them. But Ave are sorry for it now, since 
they have been so good to us : and now we love the 
Americans, and will never fight against them any 
more !'' 

Such was the effect of Washington's policy ; the 
divine policy of doing good for evil. It melted down 
his iron enemies into golden friends. It caused the 
Hessian soldiers to join with the American farmers ! 
— not only so, but to write such letters to their 
countrymen, that they were constantly breaking 
loose from the British to run over to the Americans 
— insomuch that in a little time the British would 
hardly trust a Hessian to stand sentinel ! 

Though this victory was gained on the 26th of 
December, yet we find Washington again, on the 
1st of January, across the angry Delaware, with his 
country's flag bold waving over the heights of Tren- 
ton. Lord Cornwallis advanced in great force to 
attack him. The Americans retreated through the 
town, and crossing the Sanpink (a creek that runs 
along its eastern side,) planted their cannon near the 
ford, to defend its passage. The British army 
following, close in their rear, entered the town about 
four o'clock ; and a heavy cannonade commenced 
between the two armies, which were separated only 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 97 

by the Saiipink and its narrow valley. " Now, sir!'^ 
said Sir William Erskine to Cornwallis, " now is the 
lime to make sure of Washington. 

"Oh no!" replied Cornwailis, "our troops hav« 
marched a good way to-day and are tired. And the 
old fox can't make his escape ; for, with the help ot 
the Delaware now filled up with ice, we have com- 
pletely surrounded him. To-morrow morning, fresh 
and fasting we'll fall upon him, and take him and 
his ragamuffins all at once !" 

" Ah ! my Lord !" returned Sir William, " if 
Washington he the soldier that I fear he is, you'L 
not see him there to-morrow mornhig !" 

Night coming on, the artillery ceased to roar; and 
lighting up their fires, both armies proceeded to sup- 
per and to sleep. About midnight, having renewed 
all the fires, Washington put his little army in motion, 
and passing along the enemy's rear, hasted to sur- 
prise a large body of their troops at Princeton. Soon 
as it was day Cornwallis was greatly mortified to 
find there was no American army on the banks of 
the Sanpink. "That's exactly what I feared," said 
Sir William. Just as they were in deep thought on 
the matter, they heard the roar of Washington's can- 
non at Princeton. " There," continued Sir William, 
" There is Washington now, cutting up our troops." 
And so it was ; for on arriving at Princeton, about 
sunrise, Washington met three British regiments, 
who had just struck their tents, and were coming on 
in high spirits to attack him at Trenton. In a mo- 
ment, both parties attacked like heroes. At the first 
onset the Americans gave way ; but sensible that all 
'vas at stake, Washington snatched a standard, and 
advancing on the enemy, called to his countrymen 
to follow : his countrymen heard, and rushed on to 
the charge. Then flash and clash went the muskets 
and bayonets. Here the servants of George, and 
there the sons of liberty, wrapped in clouds and 
tlames, and iniiicting mutual wounds. 

y 8* 



96 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

" God save the king !" the British heroes cried, 

" And God for Washington !" Columbia's sons replied. 

The name of Washington imparted its usual 
animation to his troops. The enemy gave way in 
all quarters, and were pursued four miles. The 
victors returned with 400 prisoners ; the bayonet had 
stopped 120 on the field. But rhey fell not alone 
The gallant Mercer, and sixty-three of his brave 
countrymen sleep with them. But the strife of the 
heroes was but for a moment ; and they have forgot- 
ten their wounds. Together now, they feast in 
Paradise, and when meet their eyes of love, their 
joys are not dashed by the remembrance of the 
past. 

The British officers gave Washington full credit 
for such fine strokes of generalship, and began to 
look thouglitful whenever his name was mention'';vi. 

The enemy on the 1 5th of January drew in ali 
their forces to winter-quarters at Brunswick, \\ LortJ 
Washington continued to thin their numbers b) i-ul- 
ting off their foraging parties; so that every lo.vi of 
hay, or dish of turni[»s they get, was at the p: a/j of 
iheir lives. 

Thus gloriously, in ten days, was turned Uie, tide 
of victory in favour of America, by jinii whom 
Heaven, in mercy not to America alone, but to 
Britain, and to the world, had raised up to found 
here a wide empire of liberty and virtue. The 
character of Washington was exalted to the highest 
pitch, even throughout Europe, where he was gene- 
rally styled the American Fabius, from the famous 
Roman general of that name, who opposed Hannibal 
with success. A distinction to which he was justly 
entitled, from the invincible firmness with whiich he 
rejected every finesse of the British generds ; as 
also, that admirable judgment with which be suited 
the defence of the nation to the genius and abilities 
of the people, and to the natural advantages of tha 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. OS 

country, thereby not allowing the enemy j pront by 
their great superiority of numbers, discipline, and 
artillery, and constantly cutting them off by skir- 
mishes and surprise. 

The ministerial plan for 1777, was to reduce the 
Americans, by intercepting all communications be- 
tween the northern and southern states ! To effect 
this object General Howe, with 20 thousand men, 
was to go round from New York to the Head of 
Elk, and thence march on, due north, through Phila- 
delphia ; while General Burgoyne, with 10,000 men, 
setting out from Canada, was to pass down the 
lakes, and thence due south to meet his colleague 
Howe; the straiglit line, formed by the junction of 
these two gentlemen, was to possess such virtues, 
that it was supposed no American could be found 
hardy enough to set foot over it ! ! 

Accordingly, July 23, General Howe left Sandy 
Hook ; sailed up the Chesapeake ; landed at the 
mouth of Elk River; and with but little interruption, 
except at Brandyvvine, marched on to Philadelphia. 
Into that elegant city, on the 26th of September, 
1777, he entered in triumph; fondly supposing, that, 
in America, as in Europe, the capture of the city 
was equivalent to the reduction of the country. But 
instead of finding himself master of this great conti- 
nent, whose rattle-snakes alone in the hand of 
heaven, could scourge his presumption ; it was with 
no small difficulty he could keep possession of tlie 
little village of Germantown. For, on the morning 
of the 4th of October, Washington made an attack 
onliim with such judgment and fury, that his troops 
gave way in every quarter. "The tumult, disorder 
and despair in the British army,'* says Washington, 
" were unparalleled." But in the very moment ot 
the most decisive and glorious victory, when some 
of the provincial regiments had more prisoners than 
men, the Americans, through the mistake of an 
otiiccr, who had drank too freely, began to retreat '' 



100 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

Wiisliingtoii's grief and mortification were mex- 
pressible. 

But while he was annoying the enemy ty land, he 
did not lose sight of their fleet, which was now forc- 
ing its way up the Delaware, to keep open to the 
army a channel of supplies. They arrived, without 
molestation, within S miles of Philadelphia, at a 
marsh called Mud-Island. On this poor harmless 
spot, the fittest, however, that nature in this peaceful 
land of Friends could furnish, Washington ordered a 
fort to be thrown up, the command of which, with 
230 men, he assigned to lieutenant-colonel Samuel 
Smith. On the eastern or Jersey side of the river, at 
a place called Red-Bank, he ordered a strong redoubt, 
the command of which, with 250 men, was given to 
Colonel Greene. These, with some chevaux-de-frise 
sunk in the river, and a few gallies, formed all the 
harrier that Washington could present against the 
British navy. The strength of this barrier was soon 
put to a fiery trial. Great preparations were made 
to attack the Americans, at the same instant, both by 
land and water. Count Donop, with a host of Hes- 
sians, was sent over to be in readiness to attack Red- 
Bank, while the flood-tide, groaning under the enor- 
mous weight, brought up the men of war. The 
morning was still, and the heavens overcast with sad 
clouds, as of nature sympathizing with her children, 
and ready to drop showers of celestial pity on their 
strifes. No sooner had the ships floated up within 
three cables length of the fort, than they began a most 
tremendous cannonade : while cannon-balls and fire- 
tailed bombs, like comets, fell upon it thick as hail. 
The gallant Smith and his myrmidons stood the shock 
to a miracle : and, like men fighting under the eye of 
their Washington, drove two-and-thirty pounders 
through them with such spirit and success, that in a 
little tmie, the Augusta, a heavy 64 gun ship, took 
fire, and blew up, tlie horrible balloon of many of the 
i:rew. Another ship called Kha Merhr , or Black-Bird, 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 101 

soon got on the wing, blew up likewise, and went off 
m thunder to join the Augusta. 

At the same moment Col. Donop, with his Hes 
sians, made a gallant attack on the fort at Red-Bank 
After a few well-directed fires, Greene and his men 
artfully retired from the out-works. The enemy now 
supposing the day their own, rushed on in vast num- 
bers along a large opening in the fort, and within 
twenty steps of a masked battery, of 18 pounders, 
loaded with grape-shot and spike-nails. All at once 
Erebus seemed to open before their aifrighted view. 
But their pains and their terrors were but for a mo- 
ment. Together down they sunk by hundreds, into 
the sweet slumbers of death, scarcely sensible of the 
fatal blow that reft their lives 

Heaps on neaps the slaughter'd Hessiatis lie : 
Brave Greene beholds them with a tearful eye. 
Far now from home, and from their native shore, 
They sleep in death, and hear of wars no more. 

Poor Donop was mortally wounded, and taken 
prisoner. The attentions of the American officers, 
and particularly the kind condolence of the godlike 
Washington, quite overcame him ; and his last mo- 
ments were steeped in tears of regret, for having left 
his native land to fight a distant people who had 
ne^er injured him. 

On hearing of his misfortune, Washington sent an 
officer to condole with him. The officer was con- 
ducted to his apartment ; and delivered the message. 
The wounded count appeared much afiected — a tear 
swelled in his eye : and he said to the officer, " Pre- 
sent to General Washington the thanlis of an unfor- 
tunate brother soldier : tell him I expect to rise no 
more, but if I should, the first exertion of my strength 
shall be, to return to him my thanks in person."'' The 
officer sent was Colonel Daniel Clymer, of Berks, 
Pennsylvania. " See here. Colonel," said the dying 
count, " see in me the vanity of all human pride ! 1 
9* 



102 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

have saone in all the courts of Europe ; and now 1 
am dying here, on the banks of the Delaware, in the 
house of an obscure Quaker !" 

After six weeks of infinite fatigue, with great loss 
of men and money, the British forced a passage large 
enough for their provision siiips to Philadelphia, 
where General Howe and his officers held their balls 
this winter; while 16 miles distant, the great Wash- 
ington, well pleased v/ith his campaign, retired to 
winter quarters at Valley Forge. 

While such ill success attended this part of the 
ministerial plan, viz. to choke the colonies by a mili- 
tary noose, so tightly drawn from Chesapeake to 
Champlain, as to stop all circulation between the 
northern and southern states ; a worse fate frowned 
on their attempt in the north. General Burgoyne, 
with 10,000 veterans, besides a host of Canadians 
and Indians, issuing forth from Canada in June 1777, 
came pouring along down the lakes like the thunder- 
ing Niagara, with an impetuosity that swept every 
thing before it. The hatchets of the Indians were 
drunk with American blood. No age, no sex, could 
soften them. "The widow's wail, the virgin's shriek 
and trembling infant's cry," were music in their ears. 
In cold blood they struck their cruel tomahawks into 
the defenceless heart of a Miss M'Rea, a beautiful 
girl, who was that very day to have been married ! 
Such acts of inhumanity called forth the fiercest 
indignation of the Americans, and inspired that des- 
perate resolution of which the human heart is capa- 
ble, but which no human force can conquer. The 
New Englanders, who were nearest to these infernal 
scenes, turned out en masse. Washington hurried 
on Gates and Arnold with their furious legions ; and 
to these he joined the immortal Morgan with his 
dreadful phalanx, 1000 riflemen, whose triggers were 
never touched in vain, but could throw a ball a 
Hundred yards at a squirrel's head, and never miss. 

The first check given to Burgoyne's career, was at 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 103 

Bennington. Hearing that the Americans had laid up 
large provisions in that town, he detached a Colonel 
Banm, with 600 Germans, to surprise it: and, at the 
same time, posted Colonel Breyman in the neigh- 
bourhood, with an equal number to support him it 
necessary. Finding the place too well guarded either 
for surprise or storm, Baum fortified himself at a lit- 
tle distance, and sent back for Breyman. The Ame- 
rican commander, the brave General Starke, sallie(^ 
out, and with great fury attacked Baum's intrench- 
ments without giving him time to receive his rein- 
forcements. At the first onset, the Canadians and 
British marksmen took to their heels, and left the 
poor Germans in the lurch. After a gallant resist- 
ance, Baum was mortally wounded, and his brave 
countrymen killed or taken to a man. In the mean- 
time Breyman, totally ignorant of their catastrophe, 
arrived at the place of action, where, instead of the 
cheering huzzas of joyful friends, he was saluted, on 
all hands, with the deadly whizzing of rifle bullets. 
After receiving a few close and scorching fires, the 
Germans hastily betook themselves to flight. The 
neighbouring woods, with night's sable curtains, en- 
abled the fugitives to save themselves for that time at 
least. The enemy lost in these two engagements, not 
loss than 1000 men, killed, wounded, and prisoners. 

About the same time all their forts on the lakes 
were surprised. Colonel St. Leger was defeated at 
Fort-Stanwix ; the Indians began to desert ; Arnold 
and Morgan were coming up like mountain-storms : 
and the militia from all quarters were pouring in. 
Burgoyne began to be alarmed, and wrote to New- 
York for aid ; but finding that Clinton could give him 
none, and that the salvation of his army depended on 
themselves, he gallantly determined, on the 7th of 
October, 1777, to stake his all on the issue of a gen- 
eral battle. 

His army, in high spirits, was formed within a mile 
of the American camp. Burgoyne, with the flower 



104 r.IFE OF WASHINGTON. 

of the British troops, composed the centre, liriga 
dier-general Frazer commanded the left. The Ger- 
mans, headed by major-generals Philips and Reides- 
del, and col. Breyman formed the right. With a fine 
train of artillery, flying colours, and full roll of mar- 
tial music, from wing to wing the towering heroes 
moved. On the other hand, fired with the love of 
hberty, the Americans poured out by thousands, 
eager for the glorious contest. Their dear country's 
flag waves over their heads. The thoughts of the 
warriors are on their children, and on the chains now 
forging for their tender hands. The avenging pas- 
sions rise, and the battle moves. Morgan brought on 
the action. In a large buckwheat field, which lay 
between the two armies, he had concealed his famous 
regiment of riflemen. The enemies, chiefly Cana 
dians and Indians, unsuspiciously advance. They 
were suffered to come within point blank shot, when 
they received a general fire, which strewed the field 
with their dead bodies. Morgan pursued ; but was 
soon met by a heavy reinforcement from the British, 
who quickly drove him, in turn. Arnold then moved 
on to support Morgan ; and, in a short time, with 
nine heavy regiments was closely engaged with the 
whole of the British army, both parties fighting as if 
each was determined never to yield : while the in- 
cessant crash of muskets and roar of artillery appear- 
ed both to sight and sound as if two wrathful clouds 
had come down on the plain, rushing together, in 
hideous battle, with all their thunders and lightnings. 
The weight, however, of the American fire was 
directed against the enemy's centre, extending along 
the left wing : and though it was some time sustained 
with the greatest firmness, yet at length it prevailed, 
and threw the British into confusion. Butthe gallant 
Frazer flying to their assistance, soon restored their 
urder and renewed the fight. Severely galled still 
by Morgan's rifles on the flanks, and hard pressed al 
the same time, in front by Arnold, they gave way a 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON 105 

second time ; and a second time Frazer's presence 
revived their vaJour, and rekindled the battle in all 
its rage. 

Here Arnold did an act unworthy of the glory of 
the well fought battle. He ordered up twelve of his 
best riflemen, and pointing to Frazer, who on horse- 
back, with brandished sword, was gallantly animat- 
mg his men, he said : " Mark that officer ! — Himself 
IS a host ; let me not see him long." 

The riflemen flew to their places, and in a few 
moments the hero was cut down. With him fell the 
courage of the left wing, who, being now fiercely 
charged, gave way, and retreated to their camp. But 
scarcely had they entered it, when the Americans, 
with Arnold at tlieir head, stormed it with inconceiv- 
able fury; rushing with trailed arms through a heavy 
discharge of musketry and grape shot. The British 
fought with equal desperation. For their all was at 
stake ; the Americans, like a whelming flood, were 
bursting over their intrenchments ; and, hand to hand, 
with arguments of bloody steel, were pleading the 
cause of ages yet unborn. Hoarse as a mastiff of true 
British breed, Lord Balcarras was heard from rank to 
rank, loud-animating his troops; while on the other 
hand, fierce as the hungry tiger of Bengal, the im- 
petuous Arnold precipitated his heroes on the stubborn 
foe. High in air, the encountering banners blazed ; 
there bold waving the lion-painted standard of Bri- 
tain ; here the streaming pride of Columbia's lovely 
stripes — while thick below, ten thousand eager war- 
riors close the darkening files, all bristled with venge- 
ful steel. No firing is heard. But shrill and terrible, 
from rank to rank, resounds the clash of bayonets — 
frequent and sad the groans of the dying. Pairs on 
pairs, Britons and Americans, with each his bayonet 
in his brother's breast, fall forward together faint- 
shnolnng in death, and mingle their smoking blood. 

Many were the widows, many the orphans that 
were made that day. Long did the daughters of 



lOG LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

Colnmb.a monra their fallen brothers! and often did 
the lovely maids of Caledonia roll their soft blue eyes 
of sorrow along the sky-bound sea, to meet the sails 
of their returning lovers. 

But alas ! their lovers shall return no more. Far 
distant, on the banks of the roaring Hudson they lie^ 
pale and helpless on the fields of death. Glassy now 
and dim are those eyes which once " beamed with 
friendship, or which flamed m war." Their last 
thoughts are towards the maids of their love : and 
the big tears glisten in their eye, as they heave the 
parting groan. 

Then was seen the faded form of Ocean's Queen, 
far-famed Britannia, sitting alone and tearful on hei 
western clifi*. With downcast look her faithful lion 
lay roarmg at her feet; while torn and scattered on 
the rock were seen her many trophies of ancient 
fame. Silent, in dishevelled locks, the goddess sat, 
absorbed in grief, when the gale of the west came 
blackening along the wave, laden with the roar of 
murderous battle. At once she rose — a livid horror 
bespread her cheeks — distraction glared on her eye- 
balls, hard strained towards the place whence came 
the groans of her children! the groans of her children 
fast sinking in a distant land. Thrice she essayed to 
curse the destroyers of her race. But thrice she 
remembered, that they too were her sons. Then, 
wild shrieking with a mother's anguish, she rent the 
air with her cries : and the hated name of North 
resounded through all her caves. 

But still in all its rage the battle burned : and both 
parties fought with an obstinacy, never exceeded. 
But, in that moment of danger and of glory, the 
impetuous Arnold, who led the Americans, was 
dangerously wounded, and forced to retire ; and 
several regiments of British infantry pouring m to 
the assistance of their gallant comrades, tlie Ameri- 
cans, after many hard struggles, wera finally re- 
pulsed. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 10? 

In another quarter, where the strength of the 
Germans fought, the Americans, led on by Morgan, 
carried the intrenchments sword in hand. The face 
of Morgan was hke the full moon in a stormy night, 
when she looks down red and fiery on the raging 
deep, amidst foundering wrecks and cries of drown- 
ing seamen ; while his voice, like thunder on tiie 
hills, was heard, loud-shouting his heroes to the 
bloody charge. The tall regiments of Hesse Cassei 
fell or fled before them ; leaving their baggage, tents 
and artillery, in the hands of the victors. 

This was a bloody day to both armies : but so 
peculiarly disheartening to the British, that they were 
obliged to retreat that night to Saratoga, where, in a 
few days, (on the 13th of October, 1777,) they 
surrendered to the Americans, under Gates, by whom 
they were treated with a generosity that astonished 
them. For, when the British were marched out to 
lay down their arms, there was not an American to 
be seen ! They had all nobly retired for a moment, 
as if unwilling to give the pain, even to their 
enemies, of being spectators of so humiliating a 
scene ! Worthy countrymen of Washington ! this 
deed of yours shall outlive the stars, and the blest 
sun himself, smiling, shall proclaim, that in the wide 
travel of liis beams, he never looked upon its like 
before. 

Thus, gloriously for America, ended the campaign 
of '77. That of '78 began as auspiciously. In May, 
Silas Deane arrived from France, with the welcome 
news of a treaty with that powerful people, and a 
letter from Louis XVI. to Congress, whom he styled 
— very dear great friends and allies. 

Soon as it was known by the British ambassador 
at Paris, Lord Stormont, that the king of France had 
taken part with the Americans, he waited on the 
French minister, De Vergennes ; and with great 
agitation mentioned the report, asking if it were 
possible it could be true 



108 J.IFE OF WASHINGTON. 

"Very possible, my Lord," replied the smooth 
Frenchman. 

" Well, I'm astonished at it, sir," continued Stor- 
mont, exceedingly mortified. " America, sir, is our 
daughter ! and it was extremely indelicate of the 
French king thus to decoy her from our embraces, 
and make a w — e of her !" 

" Why as to that matter, my Lord," quoth Ver- 
gennes, with the true Gallic shrug, "there is no great 
harm done. For the king of France is very willing 
to marry your daughter, and make an honest woman 
of her. 



CHAPTER X. 

Lord North, coming to his senses, sends commissioners to America - 
Clinton evacuates Philadelphia — Washington pursues him — battle 
of Monmouth — Arnold's apostacy — Andre apprehended — executed 
— his character 

The news of the total loss of Biu'goyne and his 
army soon reached Parliament, where it produced a 
consternation never before known in that house. 
The Ministry, utterly confounded, could not open 
their hps; while the Whig minority, with great 
severity, lashed their obstinacy and ignorance. 
Lord North, beginning now to find, as the great 
Chatham had foretold, that "three millions of Whigs, 
with arms in their hands, were not to be enslaved," 
became very anxious to conciliate ! Commissioners 
were sent over with offers to repeal the abnoxious 
taxes ! and also with promises of great favours 
which Lord North would confer on America, if she 
would settle the dispute with the mother country. 
The better to dispose her towards these offers, elegant 
j)resents were to be made to her best friends, (such 
■ as Washington, the President of Congress, &c. &c.,) 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON 109 

to speak a good word for Lord North's favours ! ' 
But, observe, Independence was to be out of tht 
question. 

Doctor Franklin used laughingly to say, that "Lord 
North and his great favours, put him in mind of an 
old bawd, and her attempts upon a young virgin, to 
whom she promised every thing but Innocence. 
While in robbing her of innocence, the old hag knew 
well enough that she was robbing the poor girl of 
that without which she would soon, in spite of her 
fine gowns and necklaces, become a miserable out- 
cast and slave." 

Finding that Lord North, in the multitude of his 
favours, had entirely forgotten the only one v/hich 
they valued, i. e. the Independence of their country, 
the committee of Congress broke off all farther con- 
verse with the ministerial commissioners, who pro- 
ceeded immediately to try the efficacy of their 
presents. To Washington, 'tis said, a viceroyship, 
with tons of gold, was to have been tendered. But, 
to the honour of the commissioners be it said, not 
one of their number was graceless enough to breathe 
the polluted wish into his ear. They had, however, 
the hardihood to throw out a bait of 10,000 guineas 
to the President of Congress, Gen. Reed. His 
answer is worthy of lasting remtmbrance. "Gentle- 
men," said he, " I am poor, very poor. But your 
king is not rich enough to buy me !" 

On the 18th of June, the British army, now under 
the command of Clinton, evacuated Philadelphia for 
New York. The figure they made on the road had 
something of the air of the sublime ; for their bag- 
gage, loaded horses, and carriages, formed a line not 
less than twelve miles in length. General Washing- 
ton, whose eye, like that of the sacred dragon, was 
always open, and fixed upon the enemies of America, 
immediately crossed the Delaware after them— 
pushed on detached corps to obstruct their advance 
— gall their flanks — and fall on their rear, while he 

10 9* 



110 IJFE OF WASHINrxTON. 

himself moved on with the main body of the army. 
By the 27th, Clinton had advanced as far as Mon- 
mouth : and Washhigton's troops were close on his 
flank and rear. Next morning Gen. Lee, with 5000 
men, was ordered to begin the attack ; Washington 
moving on briskly to support him. But, as he 
advanced, to his infinite astonishment he met Lee 
retreating, and the enemy pursuing. " For God's 
sake, General Lee," said Washington with great 
warmth, " what's the cause of this ill-tim'd pru- 
dence ?" 

" No man, sir," replied Lee, quite convulsed with 
rage, " can boast a larger portion of that rascally 
virtue than your Excellency ! !" 

Dashing along by the madman, Washington rode 
up to his troops, who, at sight of him, rent the air 
with " God save great Washington !" 

" My brave fellows," said he, " can you fight ?" 

They answered with three cheers ! " Then face 
about, my heroes, and charge." — This order was 
executed with infinite spirit. The enemy, finding 
themselves now warmly opposed in front, made an 
attempt to turn his left flank ; but were gallantly 
attacked and driven back. They then made a rapid 
push to the right : but the brave Greene, with a 
choice body of troops and artillery, repulsed them 
with considerable slaughter. At the same instant, 
Wayne advanced with his legion ; and poured in so 
severe and well directed a fire, that the enemy were 
glad to regain their defiles. Morgan's rifles distin- 
guished themselves that day. Washington and his 
heroes lay upon their arms all night, resolved to fall 
on the enemy the moment they should attempt their 
retreat next morning. But during the night, they 
moved oS in silence ; and got such a start, that 
Washington thought it dangerous, in such hot 
weather, to make a push after them. The Ameri- 
cans lost 5S killed — 140 wounded. The British had 
249 killed,and the wounded in proportion. Numbers, 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. IP 

on both sides, died of tlie extreme heat, and by drink 
ing cold water. 

In September 1780, an attempt was made to take 
off our Wasliington, and by means which I can hard- 
ly believe the old British lion was ever well pleased 
with. 

I allude to the affair of Arnold's treason. That 
which makes rogues of thousands, I mean Extrava- 
gance, was the ruin of this great soldier. Though 
extremely brave, he was of that vulgar sort, who 
havmg no taste for the pleasures of the mind, think 
of nothing but high hving, dress, and show. To rent 
large houses in Philadelphia — to entertain French 
Ambassadors — to give balls and concerts, and grand 
dinners and suppers — required more money than he 
could honestly command. And, alas ! such is the 
stuff whereof spendthrifts are made, that to fatten 
his Prodigality, Arnold consented to starve his Ho- 
nesty : and provided he might but figure as a gorge- 
ous Governor, he was content to retail, by the billet 
and the gill, wood and rum unfairly drawn from the 
commissary's store ! 

Colonel Melcher, the barrack master, mentioned 
the matter to Congress, who desired him to issue to 
General Arnold no more than his proper rations. He 
had scarcely returned home when Arnold's servant 
appeared with an order for another large supply of 
Rum, Hickory wood, &c. &c. 

" Inform your master," said Melcher, " that he 
can't have so much." 

Arnold immediately came down ; and in a great 
passion asked Colonel Melcher, if it was true he had 
protested his bill ? 

" Yes, sir !" 

" And how durst you do it ?" 

"By order of Congress, sir." 

At this, Arnold, half choked with rage, replied, 

li D n the rascals ! I'll remember them for it. 

Sampson-like I'll shake the pillars of their Liberty 
temple about their ears. 



M2 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

On the evacuation of Philadelphia by the British, 
tien. Arnold had been appointed temporary governor 
ol' that city, where he behaved like a desperado, who 
hesitates at nothing to stop the deadly leaks of his 
prodigality, and to keep himself from sinking. Among 
other bold' strokes, he seized and sold large quantities 
of American property, pretending it was British. 
Complaints were made to Congress, who, unwilUng 
to expose the man who had fought so gallantly for 
Liberty, treated him with great gentleness : and for 
the same reason, Washington, after a mild reproof, 
gave him the command of West Point, with a large 
body of troops. 

The history of Arnold's embarrassments and his 
quarrel with his countrymen, soon reached New 
York. The British commander, well knowmg the 
ticklish situation of a proud man, caught on the horns 
of poverty, sends up major Andre, with money in his 
pocket. The major, by means yet unknown to the 
public, got near enough to Arnold to probe him ; and, 
alas ! found him, both in principle and purse, hollow 
as an exhausted receiver, and very willing to be filled 
up with English guineas. English guineas, to the 
tune often thousand, with the rank and pay of Bri- 
gadier General, are offered him : and Arnold agrees, 
Oh ! shocking to humanity ! Arnold agrees to sacri- 
fice Washington. 

The outlines of the project were, it seems, that 
Arnold should make such a disposition of the troops 
at West Point, as to enable Sir Henry Clinton, so 
completely to surprise them, that they must inevita- 
bly, either lay down their arms or be cut to pieces — 
with General Washington among them ! ! The victo- 
rious British were then, both by land and water, to 
rush upon the feeble and dispirited residue of the 
American army, in the neighbourhood, utterly una- 
ble to resist, when there would follow such a slaugh- 
ter of men, and such a sweeping of artillery, ammu- 
nition, stores, &c. &c., as would completely break 



LIFE OF WASHlNCxION 110 

down the spirit of the nation, and reduce them to 
unconditional submission to the Ministry ! 

To be certified of this delightful truth, Andre, 
during Washington's absence from West Point, 
comes ashore from a sloop of war, with a surtout 
over his regimentals ; spends a day and night with 
Arnold ; sees with his own eyes, the dear train laid, 
the matches lighted, and every thing in readiness, a 
few nights hence, to send the old Virginia farmer and 
his republic to destruction. 

Every thing being settled to satisfaction, Andre 
wishes to set off to carry the glorious news to Gen- 
eral Clinton. But, behold ! by a fine stroke of Provi- 
dential interference, he cannot get on board the ship ! ! 
Arnold gives him a horse and a pass to go to New 
^ork by land. Under the name of Anderson he 
passes, in safety, all the guards. Now, like an un- 
caged bird, and light as the air he breathes, he sweeps 
along the road. His fame brightens before him — 
stars and garters, coaches and castles, dance before 
hi3 dehghted fancy — even his long-loved reluctant 
Delia (Miss Seward) is all his own — she joins in the 
nation's gratitude — softly she rolls her eyes of love, 
and brightening in all her beauty, sinks on his en- 
raptured breast ! In the midst of these, too, too 
happy thoughts, he is met by three young militia 
men. Though not on duty, they challenged him. 
He answers by the name of Anderson; shews his 
pass ; and bounds away. Here the guardian genius 
of Columbia burst into tears — she saw the fall of her 
hero, and her country's liberties crushed for ever. 
Dry thine eyes, blest saint, thy Washington is not 
fallen yet. The thick bosses of Jehovah's buckler 
are before the chief: and the shafts of his enemies 
shall yet fall to the earth, accurst — For, scarce tiad 
Andre passed the young militia-men, before one of 
them tells his comrades, that " he does not like hi3 
looks ;" and insists that he shall be called back, and 
questioned again. His answers prove him a spy 

10* 



114 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

He would have fled : but they level their muskets 
Trembling and pale, he offers them an elegant gold- 
watch to let him go. No ! He presses on them a 
purse bloated with guineas. No ! He promises each 
of them a handsome pension for life — but all in vain. 
The power that guarded Washington was wroth with 
Andre. On searching him they find in his boot, and 
m Arnold's own hand- writing, a plan of the whole 
conspiracy! Sons of the generous soul, why should 
I tell how major Andre died ! The place where his 
gallows stood is overgrown with weeds — but smiling 
angels often visit the spot ; and it was bathed with 
the tears of his foes. 

His candour, on his examination, in some sort ex- 
piated his crime. It melted the angel soul of Wash- 
ington : and the tears of the hero were mingled with 
the ink that signed the death-warrant of the hapless 
youth. The names of the young men who arrested 
poor Andre, were, John Paulding, David Williams, 
and Isaac Van Vert. They were at cards under a 
large poplar that grew by the road, where the major 
was to pass. Congress rewarded them with silver 
medals; and settled on each of them ^200 annually, 
for life. 

American writers have recorded a thousand hand- 
some things of unfortunate Andre. They have made 
him scholar, soldier, gentleman, poet, painter, musi- 
cian, and, in short, every thing that talents and taste 
can make a man. The following anecdote will show 
that he was much greater still. 

Some short time before that fatal affair which 
brought him to his end, (said my informant, Mr, 
Drewy, a painter, now living at Newbern,) a fora- 
ging party from New- York made an inroad into our 
settlement near that city. The neighbours soon as- 
sembled to oppose them ; and, though not above fit- 
teen years old, I turned out with my friends. In com- 
pany was another boy, in age and size nearly about 
my own speed. We had counted on a fine chase. 




CAPTURE OF MAJOR ANDRE. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 117 

Hut the British were not to be driven so easily as v/e 
had expected. Standing their ground, they not only- 
put us to fliglit, but captured several of our party ; 
myself and the other boy among them. They present- 
ly set out with us for New-York : and, ail the way, as 
we were going, my heart ached to think how my poor 
mother and sisters would be distressed when night 
came, and I did not return. Soon as they brought me 
in sight of the prison, I was struck with horror. The 
gloomy walls, and frightful guards at the doors, and 
wretched crowds at the iron windows, together with 
the thoughts of being locked up there in dark dun- 
geons with disease and death, so overcame me, that 
I bursted into tears. Instantly a richly dressed offi- 
cer stepped up, and taking me by the hand, with a 
xook of great tenderness, said, " My dear boy ! what 
makes you cry ?'^ I told him I could not help it when 
I compared my present sad prospect with the happy 
one I enjoyed in the morning with my mother ana 
sisters at home. " Well, well, my dear child, (said he) 
don't cry, don't cry any more." Then turning to the 
jailor ordered him to stop till he should come back. 
Though but a boy, yet I was deeply struck with the 
wonderful difference betwixt this man and the rest 
around me. He appeared to me like a brother ; they 
hke brutes. I asked the jailor who he was. " Why, 
that's Major Andre, (said he angrily) the adjutant- 
general of the army ; and you may thank your stars 
that he saw you ; for I suppose he is gone to the gene- 
ral to beg you off, as he has done many of your d — d 
rebel countrymen." In a short time he returned; and 
with great joy in his countenance called out — " Well, 
my boys, I've good news, good news for you ! The 
general has given you to me, to dispose of as I choose ; 
and now you are at liberty ! So run home to your 
fond parents, and be good boys ; mind what they tell 
you: say your prayers; love one another; and God 
Almighty will bless you." 

And yet Andre perished, on a gallows while Ar- 



118 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

tiold, after living to old age, died in his bed ! ! Sfial\ 
we hence infer with Brutus, that " Virtue is but an 
empty name?" and that Andre had been good in 
vain ? God forbid ! Goodness and happiness are twins. 
Heaven hath joined them together, and Hell cannot 
put them asunder. For proof, we need go no further 
than to Andre himself— to Andre in prison ! Even in 
that last and gloomiest scene of his life, we see the 
power which virtue has to illuminate the dark, to en 
liven the sad, and to raise her votaries above the ter- 
rors of death. In the first moment of his capture, 
when vulgar minds are thinking of nothing but self- 
preservation, he is thinking of notliing but duty and 
generosity. Regardless of himself, he is only anxious 
for Arnold. Having by letter advised that wretched 
man of his danger, and given him time to escape, he 
then gallantly asserts his own real character ; and 
avows himself " the Adjutant General of the British 
army." 

The truth is, he had been sent by Gen. Clinton, on 
a dirty piece of business for which he was not fit ; 
and of which he was so heartily ashamed, that he ap- 
pears to have been willing to atone for it with his life. 
Hence to the questions put at his trial, he answered 
with a candour which at once surprised and melted 
the Court Martial — he answered, with the candour of 
a mind which feared its own condemnation more than 
that of any human tribunal. — He heard his sentence 
of death with perfect indifference ; and at the place 
of execution behaved like one who had fulfilled the 
high duties of son, brother, and man, with constant 
attention to a happy immortality. Thus giving the 
friends of virtue abundant cause to exclaim : 



" Far more true peace the dying Andre felt, 
Than Arnold ever knew in prosp'rous guilt." 

He, poor wretch, survived ! but only to live a life, at 
once hated and despised — hated by the British Gene- 



LIFE OF WASHlNGTOiN. 119 

ral,whom he had shown capable of assasshialiiigthe 
man he could not conquer — hated by the British army, 
whom he had robbed of one of its brightest orna- 
ments — and hated by the officers, who could not bear 
to see what they called " a d — mn'd trator," not only 
introduced into their company, but placed over their 
heads ? In short, Arnold was an eye-sore to every 
man of honour in England, where he was often most 
grossly insulted. 

Soon after his flight to England with the slender 
remains of the British army, he went down to South- 
ampton, where the broken-hearted Mother and Sis- 
ters of the unfortunate Andre lived. And so little 
was he acquainted with the human heart, that he 
called to see them ! On hearing his name announced 
by the servant, they burst into tears ; and sent him 
word, that "they did not wish to see him." 

The moment he received Major Andre's letter, 
the terrified Arnold made his escape to New-York. 

British historians have wondered that he left his 
wife in the power of Washington. But Arnold knew 
in whom he trusted : and the generous man behaved 
exactly as Arnold had foreseen ; for he immediately 
sent him his clothes and baggage ; and wrote a polite 
letter of condolence to his lady, oflering hei a convey- 
ance to her husband, or to her friends in Pennsylvania. 

Washington now waged the war with various 
success. On the one hand, his hero of Saratoga 
(Gates) was defeated with great loss, at Camden ; on 
the other, the British lost, on the King's-Mountain, 
the brave Colonel Ferguson, with all his army, 1,400 
men. Colonel Ferguson and his men were supposed 
by the British, the most exquisite marksmen alive. 
And indeed to hear their bravadoes, one would 
suppose, that give them but guns of a proper calibre, 
and they would think it a light affair to snuff the 
moon, or drive the centre of the fixed stars. But the 
American Rifle-boys soon led them into a truer way 
uf thinking. For in a few rounds they pink'd the 



120 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 

brave Colonel, and put 3000 of his exquisite marks- 
men asleep ; which struck such a wholesome panic 
into the survivors, that they threw down their arms, 
and like thrifty gentlemen called out right lustily for 
quarters. 

But few of the Americans fell ; but among these 
was one, whose fame " Time with his own eternal 
lip shall sing." I mean the brave Col. Williams. 
He it was, whose burning words first kindled the 
young farmers at their ploughs, and led them to the 
King's Mountain, to measure their youthful rifles 
with Ferguson's heroes. On receiving the ball 
v/hich opened in his breast the crimson sluice of life, 
he was borne by his aids, into the rear ; where he 
was scarcely laid down, fainting with loss of blood, 
before a voice was heard, loud exclaiming, "Hurra! 
my boys ! the day is our own ! the day is our own ! 
they are crying for quarters !" Instantly he started 
as from the incipient sleep of death; and, opening his 
heavy eyes, eagerly called out, " My God ! who are 
crying for quarters ?" " The British ! The British !" 
replied the powder-blackened riflemen. At this, one 
last beam of joy lighted in a smile on his dying face: 
then faintly whispering, God be praised ! he bowed 
his head in everlasting peace. 

Joy follow thee, my brother, to his blest presence 
who sent thee, a pillar of fire, to blast the mad efforts 
of men fighting against their brethren! On earth thy 
lame shall never fail. Children yet unborn shall lisp 
the name of Williams. Their cherub lips shall often 
talk of him whose patriot eye beheld them, afar off 
smiling on the breast, and with a parent's ardoir 
hasted to ward from their guiltless heads the curses 
of monarchy. 

After the defeat of Gates, Washington sent on his 
favourite Greene to head the southern army against 
the victorious Cornwallis and Tarleton. With 
Greene he joined the famous Morgan, whose riflemen 
had performed such signal service during tbe war 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 121 

To draw Comwallis's attention from a blow 
meditated against the British post at Ninety-Six^ 
i:ireene detached Morgan to Paulet's river, near the 
neighbourhood of Cornwallis and Tarleton Imme- 
diately the pride of Tarleton rose. He begged of 
his friend, lord Rawdon, to obtain for him the per- 
mission of the commander in chief to go and attack 
Morgan. " By heavens, my lord," said he, " I coald 
not desire a finer feather in my cap than Col. Morgan. 
Such a prisoner would make my fortune." "Ah, 
Ben," replied Rawdon very coolly, "'you had better 
let the old wagoner alone." As no refusal could 
satisfy, permission at length was granted him : and 
he instantly set out. At parting, he said tr ord 
Rawdon with a smile, "My lord, if you will be so 
obliging as to wait dinner, the day after to-morrow, 
till four o'clock, Col. Morgan shall bo one of your 
lordship's guests." " Very well, Ben," said the 
other, "we shall wait. But remember, Morgan was 
brought up under Washington." Tarleton was 
followed to battle by about 1000 choice infantry and 
250 horse, with two field pieces. To oppose this 
formidable force, Morgan had but 500 militia, 300 
regulars, and 75 horse. His militia were but militia. 
His regulars were the famous Maryland line led by 
Howard ; men who would have done honour to the 
plains of Austerlitz. The intrepid Desaix, who turned 
the tide of war in the bloody strife of Marengo, was 
only equal to Washington, Col. of the horse. Morgan 
had no wish to fight. But Tarleton compelled him ; 
for about two hours before day, on the 17th of 
January, 1781, some of Washington's cavalry came 
galloping into camp v/ith news that the British were 
but eight miles off, and would be up by day break. 
Instantly Morgan called a council of war, composed 
only of Howard, Washington, and himself " Well, 
gentlemen," said he^ " what's to be done ? shall we 
fight or fly ? shall we leave our friends to our 
enemies ; and burning our meal and bacon, so hardly 

11 



122 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

got, turn out again into the starving woodc ; or shali 
we stand by both, and fight hke men?" 

" No burning! no flying," replied they, " but let's 
utand, and fight like men?" 

" Weil then, my brave fellows," said Morgan, 
«« wake up the troops, and prepare for action." 

The ground, on which this very memorable battle 
was fought, was an open pine barren. The militia 
were drawn up about two hundred yards in front of 
the regulars, and the horse some small distance in 
the rear. Just after day break, the British came in 
sight ; and halting within a quarter of a mile of the 
militia, began to prepare for battle. The sun had 
just risen, as the enemy, with loud shouts, advanced 
to the charge. The militia, hardly waiting to give 
them a distant fire, broke and fled for their horses, 
which were tied at some distance on the wings of 
the Maryland line. Tarleton's cavalry pushed hard 
after the fugitives, and, coming up with them just as 
they had reached their horses, began to cut them 
down. Unable to bear that sight. Col. Washington, 
with his corps, dashed on to their rescue. As if 
certain of victory, Tarleton's men were all scattered 
in the chase ! Washington's heroes, on the contrary, 
sensible of the fearful odds against them, advanced 
close and compact as the Spartan phalanx. Then 
sudden and terrible the charge was made ! Like men 
fighting, life in hand, all at once they rose high on 
their stirrups ! while in streams of lightning their 
swords came down, and heads and arms, and caps, 
and carcasses, distained with spouting gore, rolled 
fearfully all around. Mournfully from all sides the 
cries of the wounded were heard, and the hollow 
groans of the dying. 

Agonizing with rage and grief, Tarleton beheld 
the flight of his boasted victory, and the slaughter of 
his bravest troops. He flew to reanimate them. He 
encouraged — he threatened — he stormed and ^aved. 
But all in vain. No time was given to rally ; for 



i 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 123 

^Ike the heavy ship under crowded canvass, bursting 
through the waves, so strong and resistless, Wash- 
ington's squadron went on, hewing down and over- 
throwing every thing in their way. Confounded by 
such a fatal clmrge, the British cavalry could not 
support it ; but broke and fled in the utmost precipi- 
tation ; while, bending forward over their horses, 
and waving their blood-stained swords, the loud- 
shouting Americans pursued. The woods resounded 
with the noise of their flight. 

As when a mammoth suddenly dashes in among 
a thousand buffaloes, feeding at large on the vast 
plains of Missouri ; all at once the innumerous herd, 
cvith wildly rolling eyes, and hideous bellowings, 
oreak forth into flight, while, close at their heels, the 
roaring monster follows. Earth trembles as they 
dy. Such was the noise in the chase of Tarleton 
when the swords of Washington's cavalry pursued 
his troops from the famous fields of the Cowpens. It 
was like a peal of thunder, loud roaring at first, but 
gradually dying on the ear as it rolls away along the 
distant air. 

By this time the British infantry had come up : 
and, having crossed a little valley, just as they 
ascended the hill, they found themselves within 
twenty steps of Howard and his regulars, who 
received them with a right soldierly welcome, and, 
taking good aim, poured in a general and deadly 
fire. A slaughter so entirely unexpected, threw the 
enemy into confusion. Seeing this wonderful change 
in the battle, the militia recovered their spirits, and 
began to form on the right of the regulars. Morgan 
waving his sword, instantly rode up to them, and 
with a voice of thunder roared out, " Hurra ! my 
brave fellows, form, form ! Old Morgan was never 
beat in his life — one fire more, my heroes, and the 
day is our own !" With answering shouts, both 
regulars and militia then advanced upon the enemy; 
and, foUowuij^ their fire with the bayonet, instantiv 



124 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

decided the conflict. The ground was covered with 
the dead. Tlie tops of tlie aged pines shook with 
the ascending ghosts. With feeble cries and groans, 
at once they rose, Hke flocks of snow-white swans 
when the cold blast strikes them on the lakes of 
Canada, and sends them on wide-spread wings, far 
to the south to seek a happier clime. 

Washington pursued Tarleton 20 miles! and, during 
the race, was often so near him, that he could easily 
have killed him with a pistol shot. But having 
strictly forbidden his men to fire a pistol that day, he 
could not resolve to break his own orders. How- 
ever, there was one of his men who broke them. At 
one time Washington was 30 or 40 yards ahead ot 
his men. Tarleton observing this, suddenly wheeled 
with a couple of his dragoons to cut him off. Wash- 
ington, with more courage than prudence, perhaps, 
dashed on, and rising on his stirrups, made a blow 
at Tarleton, with such force, that it beat down his 
guard and mutilated one or two of his fingers. In 
this unprotected state, one of the British dragoons 
was aiming a stroke which must have killed him. 
But the good genii, who guard the name of Wash- 
ington, prevailed : for in that critical moment a mere 
dwarf of a Frenchman rushed up, and with a pistol 
ball shivered the arm of the Briton. The other 
dragoon attempted to wheel off; but was cut down. 
Tarleton made his escape. 

Tarleton was brave, but not generous. He could 
not bear to hear another's praise. When some ladies 
in Charleston were speaking very handsomely of 
Washington, he replied with a scornful air, that, "He 
would be very glad to get a sight of Col. Washington. 
He had heard much talk of him," he said, *' but had 
never seen him yet." •' Why, sir," rejoined one of 
the ladies, " if you liad looked behind you at the 
battle of the Cowpens, you might easily have enjoy- 
rid that pleasure." 

While in the neighbourhood of Halifax, Nor^-'^ 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. U5 

Carolina, Tarleton dined in a large company. The 
elegant and witty Mrs. Wiley Jones happened to be 
of the party. The ladies, who were chiefly whigs, 
were frequently praising the brave Col. Washington. 
Tarleton with looks considerably angry, replied, «' that 
he was very much surprised that the Ameiicans 
should think so highly of Col. Washington ; for, from 
what he could learn, he was quite an illiterate fellow 
and could hardly write his own name.'^ " That may 
be very true (replied Mrs. Jones) " but I believe, sir 
you can testify that he " knows how to make his 
mark." Poor Tarleton looked at his crippled finger, 
and bit his lips with rage. 

General Washington contin'ied the war against 
^he British till 1781 ; when Cornwailis pushed into 
Virginia, and fortified himself at York-Town. But 
the eye of Washington was upon him ; and with an 
address, which, the British historians say, was never 
equalled, he concerted a plan that ended in the total 
destruction of Cornwailis. He artfully wrote letters 
to Greene, informing him, that, " in order to relieve 
Virginia, he was determined immediately to attack 
New York." These letters were so disposed as to 
fall into the right hands. Clinton took the alarm. 
But while the British general was in daily expecta- 
tion of a visit from him, Washington and his army, 
were now across the Delaware, with full stretch to 
the south, darkening the day with their clouds of 
rolling dust. Cornwailis saw that the day of his fall 
was at hand. He had done all that a brave (would 
to God we could add, a humane) man could do ; but 
all in vain. On the last day of September, Washing- 
ton sat down before York, with 100 pieces of heavy 
artillery. On the 7th of October this dreadful train 
began to thunder : and the British works sunk before 
them. Lord Cornwailis. unwilling to expose his 
army to the destruction of a general assault, agreed 
on the 17th to surrender. This was justly considered 
.he close of the war ; which having been bes^un with 



126 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

supplication, Washington piously ordered to be finish 
ed with thanksgiving. 

In the siege of Yorktown, the behaviour of the 
Americans was, as usual, generous and noble. The 
amiable Col. Scammel, adjutant-general of the Ame- 
rican army, and uncommonly beloved by them, was 
dangerously wounded and taken prisoner by some 
British dragoons, who barbarously trotted him on 
before them, three miles, into town, where he pre- 
sently died of fever and loss of blood. Great was 
the mourning for Scammel. In a few nights after, 
Washington gave orders to storm two of the enemy's 
redoubts, which were carried almost in an instant. 
The British called for quarters : A voice of death 
was heard, " Remember poor Scammel V'—'^ Remem- 
ber, gentlemen, you are Americans !" was rejoined 
by the commander : and instantly the points of the 
American bayonets were thrown up towards heaven! 

The conduct of the French also, was such as to 
entitle them to equal praise. 

For when the British marched out to lay down 
their arms, the French officers were seen to shed 
tears. They condoled with the British, and tendered 
them their purses ! — Glorious proof, that God never 
intended men to be, as some wickedly term it, natural 
enemies. 

On hearing in Congress the fall of Cornwallis, the 
door-keeper swooned with joy — on hearing the same 
news announced in parliament, lord North fell back 
in his chair, in the deepest distress. On receipt of 
ttie glad tidings. Congress broke forth into songs of 
praise to God : Parliament into execrations against 
their Prime Minister — Congress hastened to the 
temple to pay their vows to the Most High ; the 
Parliament went to St. James's with a petition to the 
King for a change ^f men and measures. The King 
was graciously pleased to hear the voice of their 
prayer. Men and measures were changed ; and a 
decree was passed that whoever should advise war 




SURRENDER Oi" LORD CORNWALLIS. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 13*. 

and a farther widening of the breach between Britain 
and America, should be denounced an equal enemy 
to both. Then full leafed and green the olive branch 
of peace was held out to the nations : and the eyes ol 
millions, on both sides of the water, were hfted in 
transport to the lovely sign. The stern features ot 
war were relaxed ; and gladdening smiles began 
again to brighten over the " human face divine." 
But Washington beheld the lovely sight with doubt. 
Long accustomed unerringly to predict what Britain 
would do, from what he knew she had power to do, 
he had nothing to hope, but every thing to fear 
America, without money or credit ! — her officers, 
without a dollar in their pocket, stro^lling about camps 
in long beards and dirty shirts — her soldiers often 
without a crust in their knapsacks or a dram in their 
canteens — and her citizens every where sick and tired 
of war !--Great Britain, on the other hand, every where 
victorious over the fleets of her enemies — completely 
mistress of the watery world, and Judas-like, bag- 
Dearer of its commerce and cash ! with such resources, 
with all these trumps in her hands, she will play 
quits, and make a drawn game of it ? Impossible ! 
but if she should, " it must be the work of that Provi- 
dence who ruleth in the armies of Heaven and earth, 
and whose hand has been visibly displayed in every 
step of our progress to independence.'' " Nothing," 
continued Washington, " can remove my doubts but 
an order from the ministry to remove their fleets and 
armies." 

That welcome order, at length, was given ! and 
the British troops, sprucely powdered and perfumed, 
m eager thousands hied on board their ships. 

" All hands unmoor !" the stamping boatswain cried : 
" All hands unmoor !" the joyous crew replied. 

Then m a moment they all fly to work. Some 
seizing the ready handspikes, vault high upon the 
windlasses j thence coming down all at on^,e with the 



ISO LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

hearty Yo-heave-0, they shake the sounding decKs, 
and tear from their dark oozy beds the ponderous 
anchors. Others, with halyards hard strained through 
tlie creaking blocks, sway aloft the wide-extended 
yards, and spread their canvas to the gale, which, 
with increasing freshness, bears the broad-winged, 
ships in foam and thunder through the waves. Great 
was the joy of the multitude ; for they were hasten- 
ing to revisit their native land, and to meet those 
eyes of love wliich create a heaven in a virtuous 
breast. But the souls of some were sad. These were 
the reflecting few, whose thoughts were on the better 
hopes of former days ! To them, the flowing bowl, 
the lively joke, the hearty laugh and song, gave no 
delight; nor yet the blue fields of ocean brightly 
shining round, with all her young billows wantoning 
before the playful breeze. Their country ruined, and 
themselves repulsed, how could they rejoice ! Then 
slowly retiring from the noisy crew, by themselves 
apart they sat on the lofty stern, high above the 
burning track which the ships left behind them in 
their rapid flight. There, deep in thought, they sat 
with eyes sad fixed on the lessening shores, and ru- 
minated even to melancholy. The dismal war returns 
upon their thoughts, with the pleasant days of ^76, 
then bright with hope, but, now, alas ! all darkened 
in despair. " 'Twas then,'^ said they, " we first 
approached these coasts, shaded far and wide with 
our navies, nodding tall and stately over the heaving 
surge. From their crowded decks looked forth 
myriads of blooming warriors, eagerly gazing on the 
lovely shores, the farms, and flocks, and domes, fondly 
regarded as their own, with all the beauteous maids, 
the easy purchase of a bloodless strife ! But ah, vain 
hope ! Washington met us in his strength. His peo- 
ple poured around him as the brindled sons of the 
desert around their sire when he lifts his terrible 
voice, and calls them from their dens, to aid him in 
war against the mighty rhinoceros. The battle raged 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOxN. 131 

along a thousand fields — a thousand streams ran 
purple with British gore. And now of all our bloom- 
ing warriois, alas ! how few remain I Pierced by the 
fatal rifle, far the greater part now press their bloody 
beds. There, each on his couch of honour, lie those 
who were once the flower of our host. There lies 
the gallant Frazer, the dauntless Ferguson, the ac- 
complished Donop, and that pride of youth, the gen- 
erous Andre, with thousands equally brave and good. 
But, ! ye dear partners of this cruel strife, though 
fallen, ye are not forgotten ! Often, with tears do we 
see you still, as when you rejoiced with us at the 
feast, or fought by our sides in battle. But vain was 
all our valour. God fought for Washington. Hence 
our choicest troops are fallen before him ; and we, 
the sad remains of war, are now returning, inglorious, 
to our native shores. Land of the graves of Heroes, 
farewell ! Ghosts of the noble dead ! chide not the 
steps of our departure ! ye are left : but it is in the 
land of brothers, who often mourned the death which 
their valour gave. But now the unnatural strife is 
past, and peace returns. And ! with peace may 
that spirit return which once warmed the hearts of 
Americans towards their British brethren, when the 
sight of our tall ships was wont to spread joy along 
their shores ; and when the planter, viewing his 
cotton-covered fields, rejoiced that he was preparing 
employment and bread for thousands of the poor ! !" 

The hostile fleets and armies thus withdrawn, and 
the Independence of his country acknowledged ; 
Washington proceeded, at the command of Congress, 
to disband the army I To this event, though of all 
others the dearest to his heart, he had ever looked 
forward with trembling anxiety. Loving his soldiers 
as his children, how could he tell them the painful 
truth which the poverty of his country had imposed 
on him ? How could he tell them, that after all they 
had done and suffered with him, they must now 

ound their arms, and return home, many of them 



132 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

without a decent suit on their backs, or a penny In 
iheir pockets ? 

But he was saved the pain of making this commu« 
nication ; for they soon received it from another 
quarter, and with circumstances calculated to kindle 
the fiercest indignation against their coimtry. Let- 
ters were industriously circulated through the army, 
painting in the strongest colours, their unparalleled 
sufferings, and the ingratitude of Congress. 

^' Confiding in her honour," said the writer, did 
you not cheerfully enlist in the service of your coun- 
try, and for her dear sake encounter all the evils of a 
soldier's life ? Have you not beaten the ice-bound 
road full many a wintry day, without a shoe to your 
bleeding feet ; and wasted the long bitter night, with- 
out a tent, to shelter your heads from the pelting 
storm? Have 3^ou not borne the brunt of many a 
bloody fight, and, from the hands of hard struggling 
foes, torn the glorious prize, your country's indepen- 
dence? And now after all — after w^asting in her 
service the flower of your days — with bodies broken 
under arms, and bones with the pains and aches of a 
seven year's war, will you suffer yourselves to be 
sent home in rags to your families, to spend the sad 
remains of life in poverty and scorn ? — No ! my 
brothers in arms ! I trust you will not. I trust you 
bear no such coward minds. I trust, that after 
having fought so bravely for the rights of others, you 
will now fight as bravely for your own rights. And 
now is the accepted time and golden hour of redress, 
'while you have weapons in your hands, the strength 
of an army to support you, and a beloved general at 
your head, ready to lead you to that justice which 
you owe to yoprselves, and, which you have so long 
but vainly expected from an ungrateful country." 

These letters produced, as might have been ex- 
pected, a most alarming effect. Rage, like a fire in 
secret, began to burn throughout" the camp. Wash- 
ington soon perceived it. He discovered it in his 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 133 

Soldiers, as, gathered into groupes, they stood and 
murmured over their grievances, while, with furious 
looks and gestures, they stamped on the earth, and 
hurled their curses against Congress. Gladdening at 
s^ich success of his first letters, the writer instantly 
sent arou.nd a second series, still more artful and in- 
flammatory than the first. The passions of the army 
now rose to a height that threatened instantaneous 
explosion. Bat still their eyes, beaming reverence 
and love, were turned tovv^ards their honoured chief, 
TO whom they had ever looked as to a father. 

Often had they marked his tears, as, visiting their 
encampments, he beheld them suffering and sinking 
under fevers and fluxes, for want of clothes and pro- 
visions. Often, had they hushed their complaints, 
trusting to his promises that Congress would still 
remember them. But behold ! his promises and 
their hopes are all alike abortive ! 

And will not Washington, the friend of justice and 
father of his army, avenge them on a government 
which has thus basely defrauded them, and deceived 
him ? There needed but a glance of his approbation 
to set the whole army in motion. lustantly with fixed 
bayonets they would have hurled the hated Congress 
from their seats, and placed their beloved Washing- 
ton on the throne of St. Tammany. Here, no doubt, 
Uie tempter flashed the dangerous diadem before the 
eyes of our countryman. But religion at the same 
time, pointed him to the great lover of order, holding 
up that crown, in comparison of which the diadems 
of kings are but dross. Animated with such hopes 
he had long cherished that ardent philanthropy 
which sighs for liberty to all countries, and especially 
to his own. For Liberty Ire had fought and conquer- 
ed ; and now considered it, with all its blessings, as 
at hand. " Yet a little while, and America shall 
become the glory of the earth — a nation of Brothers, 
enjoying the golden reign of equal laws, and rejoicing 
under their own vine and fig-tree, and no tyrant to 

12^ n 



4 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

make them afraid. And shall these glorious pros 
pects be darkened ? shall they be darkened by Wash- 
ington ! shall he, ever the friend of his country, be- 
come her bitterest enemy, by fixing upon her again 
the iron yoke of monarchy ? shall iie ! the fother of 
his army, become their assassin, by establishing a 
government that shall swallow up their liberties for 
ever?" 

The idea filled his soul with horror. Instead, 
therefore, of tamely yielding to the v/ishes of his 
army to their own ruin, he bravely opposes them to 
their true good : and instead of drinking in, with trai- 
torous smile, the hozannas that would have made 
him king, he darkens his brow of parental displeasure 
at their impiety. Pie flies to extinguish their rising 
rebellion. He addresses letters to the officers of the 
army, desiring Ihem to meet him at an appointed 
time and place. Happily for America, the voice of 
Washington still sounded in their ears, as the voice 
of a father. His officers, to a man, all gathered 
around him ; while, with a countenance inspiring 
veneration and love, he arose and addressed the eager 
listening chiefs. He began with reminding them of 
the great object for which they had first drawn 
their swords, i. e. the Uberty of their country. He 
applauded that noble spirit with which they had sub- 
mitted to so many privations — combated so many 
dangers — and overcome so many difficulties. And 
now, said he, after having thus waded, like Israel of 
old, through a red sea of blood, and withstood the 
lliundering Sinais of British fury ; after having crush 
ed the fiery serpents of Indian rifles, and tramplec 
down those insidious Amalekites, the tories — after 
having travelled through a howling wilderness of 
war, and, with the ark of your country's liberties in 
camp, safely arrived on the borders of Canaan, and in 
sight of the glorious end of all your labours, will you 
now give yourselves up the dupes of a "British 
emissary," and tor the sordid flesh-pots of a few 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 13S 

months' pay, rush into civil war, and fall back to a 
worse than Egyptian bondage ? No ! my brave coun- 
trymen : I trust you will not: I trust, that an army so 
famed tliroughout the world for patriotism, will yet 
maintain its reputation. I trust, that your behaviour 
on tliis last, this most trymg occasion, will fill up tiie 
measure of your heroism, and stamp the American 
character with never dying fame. You have achiev- 
ed miracles. But a greater miracle still remains to 
be achieved. We have had the glory to conquer our 
enemies ; now for the greater glory to conquer our- 
selves. Other armies, after subduing the enemies of 
their country, have themselves, for power and plun- 
der, become her tyrants^ and trampled her liberties 
under foot. Be it our nobler ambition, after suffer- 
ings unparalleled for our needy country, to return 
cheerful, though pennyless, to our homes ; and pa- 
tiently wait the rewards which her gratitude will, 
one day, assuredly bestow. In the mean time, beat- 
ing our swords into ploughshares, and our bayonets 
into reaping hooks, let us, as peaceful citizens, culti- 
vate those fields from which, as victorious soldiers, 
we lately drove the enemy. Thence, as from the 
noblest of theatres, you will display a spectacle of 
patriotism never seen before. You will teach the de- 
lighted world, that men are capable of finding a hea- 
ven in noble actions: and you will give occasion 'o 
posterity to say, when speaking of your j)resent be- 
liaviour, had this day been wanting, the triumph of 
our fathers' virtues would hive been incomplete." 

As he spoke, his cheeks, naturally pale, were red- 
dened over with virtue's pure verniiliion : wl ile his 
eyes, of cerulean blue, v/ere kindled up with those 
indescribable fires which fancy lends to an angel 
orator, animating poor mortals, to the sublimest of 
god-like deeds. His words, were not in vain. From 
lips of wisdom, and long-tried love, like hip such 
counsel wrouglit as though an oracle had spuivcn. 
Instantly a committee of the whole was formed, with 



136 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

general Knox at their head, who, in thirty minutes, 
reported the following resolutions, which were unani- 
mously adopted: 

" Resolved — that having engaged in the wai 
from motives of the purest love and zeal for the rights 
of man, no circumstance of distress or danger shall 
ever induce us to sully the glory we have acquired 
at the price of our blood, and eight years' faithful 
service. 

" Resolved — that we continue to have an un 
shaken confidence in the justice of congress and our 
country. 

"Resolved — that we view with abhorrence, and 
reject with disdain, the infamous proposition con- 
tained in a late anonymous address to the officers of 
the army." 

The officers then hasted back to their troops, who 
had been impatiently expecting them ; and related 
Washington's speech. They also stated as his firm 
conviction, that " the claims of every soldier would be 
liquidated ; his accounts accurately ascertained ; and 
adequate funds provided for the payment of them, 
as soon as tlie circumstances of the nation would 
permit. 

The soldiers listened to this communication with 
attention : and heard the close of it without a mur- 
mur. " They had no great opinion, they said, of 
congress — but having gone such lengths for duty 
and old George, they supposed they might as well 
now go a little farther, and make thorough work of 
it. A little pay would, to be sure, have been very 
welcome : and it was a poor military chest that could 
not afford a single dollar, especially as some of them 
had hundreds of miles to travel to reach their homes. 
But surely the people won't let us starve for a meal's 
victuals by the way, especially at'ter we have been sa 
long fighting their battles. So, in God's name, we'll 
even shoulder our knapsacks, whenever our general 
shall sav the word." 



LIFE OF WASHLNGTON. 137 

The next day the breaking up of the army began, 
which was conducted in the following manner : The 
troops after breakfast were ordered under arms. On 
receiving notice that they were ready to move, 
Washington with his aids, rode out on the plains of 
their encampment, where lie sat on his horse awaiting 
Hieir arrival. The troops got in motion, and with 
fifes and muffled drums playing the mournful air of 
Roslin Castle, marched up for the last time, into his 
presence. Every countenance was shrouded in sor- 
row. At a signal given, they grounded their arms. 
Then, waving their hats, and faintly crying out " God 
save great Washington," through watery eyes they 
gave him a long adieu, and wheeled off in files for 
their native homes. With pensive looks his eye pur- 
sued them as they retired, wide spreading over the 
fields. But when he saw those brave troops who had 
so long obeyed him, and who had just given such an 
evidence of their affection — when he saw them slow- 
ly descending behind the distant hills, shortly to dis- 
appear for ever, then nature stirred all the father 
within him, and gave him up to tears. But he wept 
not " as those without hope." He rejoiced in the 
remembrance of him who treasures up the toils of 
the virtuous, and will, one day, bestow that reward 
which, ^' this world cannot give." 

But the whole army was not disbanded at once. 
Shortly after this he went down to New York, to 
finish what remained of his duty as commander in 
chief, and to prepare to return home. On the last 
day that he was there, it being known that he meant 
to set out for Virginia at one o'clock, all his officers^, 
who happened to be in town, assembled at Francis's 
tavern, where he lodged, to bid him a last farewell. 
About half after twelve o'clock the general entered 
the room, where an elegant collation was spread : but 
none tasted it. Conversation was attempted : but it 
failed. As the clock struck one, the general went 
to the side-board, and filling out some wine, turned 
12* 11* 



138 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

to his officers, and begged they would join him in a 
glass. Then, with a look of sorrow and a faltering 
voice, he said, " Well my brave brothers in arms, we 

part perhaps to meet in this hfe no more. And 

now I pray God to take yoa all in his holy keeping, 
and render yonr latter days as prosperous as the past 
have been glorious." 

Soon as they had drunk, he beckoned to general 
Knox, who approached and pressed his hand in tears 
of delicious silence. The officers all followed his 
example; while their manly cheeks, swolkn with 
grief, bespoke sensations too strong for mterance. 
This tender scene being over, he moved towards the 
door, followed by his officers. By this time the street 
from the hotel to the river was filled with light in- 
fantry, and thousands of citizens, who all attended 
him in silence to the water-side, where he was to 
take boat. Here another pleasing proof of esteem 
was given him. Instead of the common ferry boat, a 
-arge magnificently decorated, was ready to receive 
him, with the American jack and colors flying, and 
manned with thirteen sea captains, all in elegant 
blue uniforms. On stepping aboard the barge, he 
turned towards the people, who stood in vast crowds 
on the shore : and waving his hat, bade them a silent 
adieu, which they in like solemn manner returned, 
all waving their hats, and without speaking a word. 
Kaving received their honoured freight, the sons of 
Neptune, ready with well poised oars, leap forward 
to the coxswain's call ; then, all at once falling back, 
with sudden stroke they flash their bending blades 
into the yielding flood. Swift at their stroke the 
barge sprung from the shore ; and, under the music 
of echoing row-locks, flew through the waves, fol- 
lowed by the eager gaze of the pensive thousands. 
The sighing multitude then turned away Irom the 
shore with feelings whose source they did not, per- 
haps, understand. But some, on returning to their 
homes, spoke to their listening children of what ihcv 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON 139 

had seeij, and of the honours which belong to such 
virtue as Washington's. 

He lodged that night at Elizabethtown, fifteen 
miles from New York. Tiie next morning, elate 
with thoughts of home, he ascended his chariot ; and 
with bounding steeds drove on his way through the 
lovely country of New Jersey. This no doubt, was 
the plcasantest ride by far that he had known since 
the dark days of '75. For though joyless winter 
was spread abroad, with her cold clouds, and winds 
shrill s|^istling over tlie l^owerless fields; yet to 
his patriot eye the face of nature shone brighter than 
in latter years, when clad in springtide green and 
gold — for it was covered over with the bright mantle 
of peace. His shoulders were freed from the burden 
of public cares, and his heart from the anxieties of 
su])reme command. With a father's joy he could 
took around on the thick settled country, with all its 
little ones, and flocks, and herds, now no longer ex- 
posed to danger. 

" Happy farmers ! the long winter of war is past 
and gone — the spring time of peace is returned, and 
the voice of her dove is heard in our land. Restore 
your wasted farms. Spread abroad the fertilizing 
manure : and prepare again to crown your war 
worn fields with joyful crops." 

"Happy children ! now pour forth agam in safety 
to your schools. Treasure up the golden knowledge ; 
and make yourselves the future glory and guardians 
of your country." 

Happy citizens ! hasten to rebuild the ruined 
temples of your God. And lift your glad songs to 
Him, the great ruler of war, who aided your feeble 
arms, and trampled down the mighty enemy beneath 
your feet." 

But often, amidst these happy thoughts, the swift 
wheeled chariot would bring him in view of fields on 
which his bleeding memory co Jd not dv/ell without 
a tear. " There the battling a .mies met in thunder 



140 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 

The stormy strife was short. But yonder mourn fui 
liiUocks point the place where many of our brave 
heroes sleep ; perhaps some good angel has whisper- 
ed that their fall was not in vain." 

On his journey homewards, he stopped for a 
moment at Philadelphia, to do an act, which to a 
mind proudly honest like his, must have been a 
sublime treat. He stopped to present to the comp- 
troller-general an account of all the public moneys 
which he had spent. Though this account was in 
his own hand writing, and accompanied with the 
proper vouchers, yet it will hardly be credited by 
European statesmen and generals, that, in the 
course of an eight years war, he had spent only 
12,497/. Ss. 9d. sterling! ! 

From Philadelphia he hastened on to Annapolis, 
where Congress was then in session, that he might 
return to that honourable body the commission with 
which they had entrusted him. 

Having always disliked parade, he wished to make 
his resignation in writing. But Congress, it seems, 
willed otherwise. To see a man voluntarily giving 
up power, was a spectacle not to be met with every 
day. And that they might have the pleasure of see- 
ing him in this last, and perhaps greatest, act of his 
public Ufe, they expressed a wish to receive his 
lesignation from his own hand at a full audience. 
The next day, the 23d of December, 1783, was 
appointed for the purpose. At an early hour the 
house was crowded. The mxembers of Congress, with 
the grandees of the land, fillea the floors. The ladies 
sparkled in the galleries. At eleven o'clock. Wash 
ington was ushered into the house, and conducted to 
a seat which had been prepared for him, covered 
with red velvet. After a becoming pause, and 
information given by the president, that the United 
States in Congress assembled were ready to ^'eceive 
his communication, he arose; and with great brevity 
and modesty observed, that he had presented himseU 



LIFE OF W/VSIIINGTON. 141 

before them, to resign into their hands with satisfac 
tion the commission which, eight years before, he 
had accepted with diffidence. He begged to offer 
them his sincerest congratulations for the glorious 
result of their united struggles; took no part of the 
praise to himself; but ascribed all to the blessing of 
Heaven on the exertions of the nation. Then 
fervently commending his dearest country to the 
protection of Almighty God, he bade them an affec 
tionate farewell ; and taking leave of all the em- 
ployments of public life, surrendered up his com- 
mission ! 

Seldom has there been exhibited so charming a 
display of the power which pre-eminent virtue pos- 
sesses over the human heart, as on this occasion. 
Short and simple as was the speech of Washington, 
yet it seems to have carried back every trembling 
imagination to the fearful days of '75, when the 
British fleets and armies were thundering on oui 
coasts, and when nothing was talked of but slavery, 
confiscation, and executions. And now they saw 
before them the man to whom they all looked for 
safety in that gloomy time — who had completely 
answered their fond hopes — who had stood by them 
incorruptible and unshaken — had anticipated their 
mighty enemy in all his plans — had met him at every 
point — had thwarted, defeated, and blasted all his 
hopes — and, victory after victory won, had at length 
laid his strong legions in dust or in chains — and had 
secured to his country a glorious independence, with 
the fairest chance of being one of the most respecta- 
ble and happy nations of the earth — and, in conse- 
quence of all this, had so completely v/on the hearts 
ofhis army and his nation, that he could perhaps 
have made himself their master. At all events; a 
Caesar or a Cromwell would, at the hazard of a 
million of lives, made the sacrilegious attempt. Yet 
they now saw this man scorning to abuse his power 
to the degradation of his country, — but on the con- 



145? LIFE OF WASHINGTON 

(rary, treating her with the most sacred respect — 
dutifully bowing before her delegated presence, the 
congress — cheerfully returning the commission she 
had entrusted him with — piously laying down his 
extensive powers at her feet — and modestly falling 
back into the humble condition of the rest of her 
children. The sight of their great countryman, 
already so beloved, and now acting so generous, so 
godlike a part, produced an effect beyond the power 
of v/ords to express. Their feeUngs of admiration 
and alfection were too delicious, too big for utterance 
Every countenaace was swollen with sentiment ; and 
delicious tears moistened every eye, which, though a 
silent, was perhaps the richest offering of veneration 
and esteem ever paid to a human being. 

Having discharged this last great debt to his 
country, the next morning early he ascended his 
chariot; and listened with joy to the rattling wheels, 
now running off his last day's journey to Mount 
Vernon. Ah ! could gloomy tyrants but feel what 
Washington felt that day, when, sweeping along the 
road, vvMtli grateful heart, he revolved the mighty 
work which he had finished — his country saved and 
his conscience clear; they would tear off the accursed 
purple, and starting from their blood-stained thrones, 
like Washington, seek true happiness in making 
others happy. 

O Washington ! thrice glorious name, 

What due rewards can man decree? 

Empires are far below thy aim, 

And sceptres have no charms for thee ; 

Duty alone has thy regard, 

In her thou seek'st thy great reward. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 143 



CHAPTER XI. 

Washington again on his farm — sketch of his conduct there— suggests 
the importance of inland navigation — companies forming — urges a 
reform of the (►Id constitution — appointed President of the United 
Statesj — great difficulties to encounter — gloriously surmounts them. 

To be happy in every situation is a proof of wis- 
rtcm seldom afforded by man. It proves that the 
heart is set on that which alone can ever completely 
satisfy it, i. e. the imitation of God in benevolent and 
useful life. This was the happy case with Washing- 
ton. To establish in his country the golden reign of 
hberty is his grand wish. In the accomplishment of 
this he seeks his happiness. He abhors war; but, if 
war be necessary, to this end he bravely encounters 
it. His ruling passion must be obeyed. He beat his 
ploughshare into a sword, and exchanged the peace 
and pleasures of his farm for the din and dangers of 
the camp. Having won the great prize for which he 
contended, he returns to his plough. His military 
habits are laid by with the same ease as he would 
throw off an old coat. The camp with all its parade 
and noise, is forgotten. He awakes, in his silent 
chambers at Mount Vernon, withcn sighing for the 
sprightly drums and fifes that used to salute him 
every morning. Happy among his domestics, he 
does not regret the shining ranks of patriot soldiers 
that used to pay him homage. The useful citizen is 
the high character he wishes to act — his sword turned 
into a ploughshare is his favourite mstrument ; and 
his beloved farm his stage. Agriculture had been 
always his delight. To breathe the pure healthful 
air of a farm, perfumed with odorous flowers, and 
enriched with golden harvests, and with numerous 
ffocks and herds, appeared to him a life nearest con 
iiected with individual and national happiness. To 
this great object he turns all his attention — bends all 
"lis exertions. He writes to the most skilful farmers, 



144 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

not only in America, but in England (for Washington 
was incapable of bearing malice against a people who 
had been reconciled to his country ;) he writes, I say, 
to the ablest farmers in America and England, for 
instructions how best to cultivate and improve his 
lands — what grains, what grasses, what manures 
would best suit his soils; what shrubs are fittest for 
fences, and what animals for labour. 

But, to a soul large and benevolent like his, to 
beautify his own farm, and to enrich his own family, 
seemed like doing nothing. To see the whole nation 
engaged in glorious toils, filling themselves with 
plenty, and innndating the sea ports with food and 
raiment for the poor and needy of distant nations — 
this w^as his godlike ambition. But, knowing that his 
beloved countrymen could not long enjoy the honour 
and advantage of such glorious toils, unless they could 
easily convey their swelling harvests to their own 
markets, he hastened to rouse them to a proper sense 
of the infinite importance of forming canals and cuts 
between all the fine rivers that run throught he Unit- 
ed Srates. To give the greater weight to his coun- 
sel, he had first ascended the sources of those great 
rivers — ascertained the distance between them — the 
obstacles in the way of navigation — and the probable 
expense of removing them. 

Agreeably to his wishes, two wealthy companies 
were soon formed to extend the navigation of James 
River and Potomac, tlie noblest rivers in Virginia. 
Struck with the exceeding benefit which both them- 
selves and their country would speedily derive from 
a plan which he had not only suggested, but had 
taken such pains and expense to recommend, they 
pressed him to accept one hundred and fifty shares 
of the company's stock, amounting to near 40,000 
dollars ! But he instantly refused it, saying, " what 
will the world think if they should hear that I havo 
taken 40,000 dollars for this allliir.? Will they not be 
apt to suspect, on my next proposition, that money 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 145 

IS my motive ? Thus, for the sake of money, which 
indeed I never coveted from my country, I may lose 
the ])ower to do her some service, which may W. 
worth more than all money ! !" 

But, while engaged in this goodly work, he was 
suddenly alarmed by the appearance of an evil, which 
threatened to put an end to all his well-meant labours 
for ever — this was, the incipient dissolution of the 
federal government ! ! The framers of that fair but 
flimsy fabric, having put it together according to the 
square and compass of equal rights, and mutual 
interests, thought they had done enough. The good 
sense and virtue of the nation, it was supposed, would 
form a foundation of rock Avhereon it would safely 
rest, in spite of all commotions, foreign or domestic. 

" But, alas !" said Washington, " experience has 
shown, that men unless constrained, will seldom do 
what is for their own good. With joy 1 once beheld 
my country feeling the liveliest sense of her rights, 
and maintaining them with a spirit apportioned to 
their worth. With joy I have seen all the wise men 
of Europe looking on her with admiration, and all the 
good with hope, that her fair example would rege- 
nerate the whole world, and restore the blessings of 
equal government to long oppressed humanity. But 
alas ! in place of maintaining this glorious attitude, 
America is herself rushing into disorder and dissolu- 
tion. We have powers sufficient for self-defence and 
glory ; but those powers are not exerred. For fear 
congress should abuse it, the people will not trust 
their power with congress. Foreigners insult and 
injure us with impunity ; for congress has no power 
to chastise them. — Ambitious men stir up factions 
CoQigress possesses no power to coerce them. Public 
creditors call for their money. Congress has no 
power to collect it. In short, we cannot long subsist 
as a nation, without lodging somewhere a power 
that may command the full energies of the nation for 
uefence from all its enemies, and for the supply of all 
13 12 



146 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

its wants. The people will soon be tired of such a 
government. Tliey will sigh for a change : and many 
of them already beghi to talk of monarchy, without 
horror !" 

In this, as in all cases of apprehended danger, his 
pen knew no rest. " The leading characters of the 
nation were roused : and a convention was formed, 
of deputies from the several states, to revise and 
amend the general government. Of this convention 
Washington was unanimously chosen president. — 
Their session commenced in Philadelphia, May, 1 787 
and ended in October. The fruit of their six months 
labour was the present excellent constitution, which 
was no sooner adopted, than the eyes of u.<i whole 
nation were fixed on him for president. 

Being now in his 57th year, and wedded to his 
farm and family, he had no wish to enter again into 
the cares and dangers of public life. Ease was now 
become almost as necessary as it was dear to him. 
His reputation was already at the highest ; and as to 
money, in the service of his country he had always 
refused it. These things considered, together with 
his acknowledged modesty and disinterestedness, we 
can hardly doubt the correctness of his declaration, 
that, " the call to the magistracy was the most un- 
welcome he had ever heard." 

However, as soon as it was officially notified to 
him, in the spring of 1789, that he was unanimously 
elected President of the United States, and that Con- 
gress, then sitting in New York, was impatient to see 
him in the chair, he set out for that city. Then all 
along the roads where he passed, were seen the most 
charming proofs of that enthusiasm with which the 
hearts of all delighted to honour him. If it was only 
said, " General Washington is coming," it was enough. 
The inhabitants all hastened from their houses to the 
highways, to have a sight of their great countryman; 
while the people of the towns, hearing of his approach, 
sallied out, horse and foot, to meet him. In eager 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 147 

ehrongs, men, women and children, pressed upon his 
steps, as waves in crowding ridges pursue the course 
of a ship through the ocean. And as a new succes- 
sion of waves is ever ready to take the place of those 
which have just ended their chase in playful foam, 
so it was with the ever-gathering crowds that follow- 
ed their Washington. 

"On reaching the western banks of the Schuylkill," 
said a gentleman who was present, " I was astonish- 
ed at the concourse of people that overspread the 
country, apparently from Gray's ferry to the city. 
Indeed one would have thought that the whole 
population of Philadelphia was come out to meet 
him. And to see so many thousands of people on 
foot, on horseback, and in coaches, all voluntarily 
waiting upon and moving along with one man, struck 
me with strangely agreeable sensations. Surely, 
thought I, there must be a divinity in goodness, that 
mankind should thus delight to honour it." 

His reception at Trenton was more than flattering. 
It was planned, they said, by the ladies, and indeed 
bore marks that it could have been done only by 
them. The reader must remember, that it was near 
this place that the fair sex in '7G suffered such cruel 
indignities from the enemy ; and that it was here 
that Providence in the same year enabled Washing- 
ton so severely to chastise tliem for it. The women 
are not apt to forget their benefactors. Hearing that 
Washington was on his way to Trenton, they instant- 
ly held a caucus among themselves, to devise ways 
and means to display their gratitude to him. Under 
their direction, the bridge over the Sanpink, (a nar- 
row creek running through Trenton, upon whose 
opposite banks Washington and the British once 
fought,) was decorated with a triumphal arch, with 
this inscription in large figures : 

, DECEMBER 26, 1776. 

THE HERO WHO DEFENDED THE MOTHERS, 
WILL ALSO PROTECT THE DAUGHTERS. 



148 ..IKE OV WASHINGTOiN. 

He approached the bridge on its south side, amidst 
the heartiest shouts of congratulating thousands 
while on the north side were drawn up several 
hundreds of little girls, dressed in snow-white robes 
with temples adorned with garlands, and baskets ot 
flowers on their arms. Just behind them stood long 
rows of young virgins, whose fair faces, of sweetest 
red and white, highly animated by the occasion, 
looked quite angelic — and, behind them in crowds, 
stood their venerable mothers. As Washingtoix 
slowly drove off the bridge, the female voices ali 
began, sweet as the first wakings of the Eolian havp : 
and thus they rolled the song : 

♦* Welcome, Diighty chief! once more 
Welcome to this grateful shore. 
Now 110 mercenary foe 
Aims again the fatal blow, 
Aims at thee the fatal blow. 

Virgins fair, and matrons grave, 
(These thy conquering arm did save !) 
Build for thee triumphal bowers, 
Strew, ye fair, his way with flowers ; 
Strew your hero's way with flowers. 

While singing the last lines, they strewed the wa^ 
with flowers before him. 

Some have said that they could see in his alterea 
looks, that he remembered the far different scenes of 
'76 ; for that they saw him wipe a tear. No doubt 
it vvras the sweet tear of gratitude to him who had 
preserved him to see this happy day. 

At Nev/ York the behaviour of the citizens was 
equally expressive of the general veneration and 
esteem. The ships in the harbour were all dressed 
in their flags and streamers ; and the wharves where 
he landed were richly decorated. At the water's 
edge he was received by an immense concourse of 
the joyful citizens; and, amidst the mingled thunder 
of guns and acclamations, was conducted to his lodg 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOIN. .49 

mgs. Such honours, would have intoxicated most 
men : but to a mind Uke his, habitually conversant 
with the far subhmer subjects of the Christian philo- 
sophy, they must h.ave looked quite puerile. Indeed 
it appears from a note made in his journal that very 
evening, tha"". he regarded all these marks of public 
favour rather as calls to humility than pride. " Ttie 
display of boats on this occasion," says he, ^' with 
vocal and instrumental music on board, the decora- 
tions of the ships, the roar of camion, and the loud 
acclamations of the people, as I passed along the 
wharves, gave me as much pain as pleasure, con- 
templating the probable reverse of this scene after 
all my endeavour to do good." 

It was on the 23d of April, 1789, that he arrived 
in New York : and on the 30th, after taking the oath, 
as president of the United States, to preserve, protect, 
and defend the constitution, he entered upon the 
duties of his office. 

As things then stood, even his bitterest enemies, if 
he had any, might have said, " happy man be his 
dole !" for he came to the helm in a perilous and 
fearful season. Like chaos, " in the olden time," our 
government was " without form and void : and dark- 
ness dwelt upon the face of the deep." Enemies 
innumerable threatened the country, both from within 
and without, abroad and at home — the people of 
three continents at daggers drawn with the young 
republic of America ! 

The pirates of Morocco laying their uncircumcised 
hands on our rich commerce in the Mediterranean. 

The British giumbling and threatening wai. 

The Spaniards shutting up the Mississippi ! 

The Kentuckians in great warmth, threatening to 
break the Union, and join the Spaniards ' 

The Indian nations, from Canada to Georgia, im- 
burying the tomahawk ! 

North Carolina and Rhode Island, blowing on the 
• nfederacy ! strung parties in other states against it! 
13* 12* 



150 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

— ani ail alarming insurrection in Massachusetts' 
While, to comhat ail these enemies, the United State? 
had but 600 regular troops ! ! and, though eighty 
millions of dollars in debt, they had not one cent in 
ihe treasury ! ! ! Here certainly, if ever, was the time, 
to try a man's soul. But Washington despaired not. 
Glowing with the love of his country, and persuaded 
that his country still enjoyed an opportunity to be 
great and happy, he resolved, whatever it might cost 
him, that nothing should be wanting on his part to 
fill up the measure of her glory. But first of all, in 
his inaugural speech, he called upon Congress and 
his countrymen, to look up to God for his blessing; 
next, as to themselves, to be most industrious, hon- 
ourable, and united, as became men responsible to 
ages yet unborn, for all the blessings of a republican 
government, now, and perhaps for the last time, at 
stake, on their wisdom and virtue ; — then as to him- 
self; " I feel," said he, " my incompetency of poluical 
skill and abilities. Integrity and firmness are all 1 
can promise. These, I know, will never forsake me, 
although I may be deserted by all men : and of the 
consolations to be derived from these, under no cir- 
cumstances can the world ever deprive me.'' — And 
last of all, as, in a crazy ship at sea, tossed by furious 
winds, no pilot can save without the aid of able sea 
men, Washington prudently rallied around liim the 
wisest of all his countrymen. 

Mr. Jefferson, Secretary of Foreign Affairs. 

Col. Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury. 

Gen. Knox, Secretary of War. 

Edmund Randolph, Attorney General. 

John Jay, Chief Justice. 

John Rutledge, ] 

James Wilson, 

John Gushing, [^-Associate Judges 

Robert Harrison, | 

John Blair, J 

These judicious preparations being made for tho 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 151 

storm, (Heaven's blessing invoked, and the ablest 
pilots embarked with him,) Washington then seized 
the helm, with a gallant hard-a-lee; luffed up his 
ship at onc« to the gale, hoping yet to shoot the 
hideous gulfs that threatened all around. 

His first attention was turned to the call of 
Humanity, i. e. to satisfy and make peace with the 
Indians. This was soon done ; partly by presents, 
and by establishing, in their country, houses of fair 
trade, which, by preventing frauds, prevent those 
grudges that lead to private murders, and thence to 
public disturbances and wars. Some of the Indian 
tribes, despising these friendly efforts of Washington. 
were obliged to be drubbed into peace, which serv^ice 
was done for them by General Wayne, in 1794 — 
but not until many lives had been lost in preceding 
defeats ; owing chiefly, it was said, to the very 
intemperate passions and potations of some of their 
officers. However, after the first shock, the loss of 
these poor souls was not much lamented. Tall young 
fellows, who could easily get their half dollar a day 
at the healthful and glorious labours of the plough, 
to go and enlist and rust among the lice and itch of 
a camp, for four dollars a month, were certainly not 
worth their country's crying about. 

Washington's friendly overtures to Spain were 
equally fortunate. Believing that he desired nothing 
but what was perfectly just, and what both God and 
man would support liim in, she presently agreed to 
negociate. The navigation of the Mississippi was 
given up. The Kentuckians were satisfied: and 
Spain and the United States lived on good terms all 
the rest of his days. 

Washington then tried his hands with the British 
But alas ! he soon found that they were not made of 
such pliable stuff as the Indians and Spaniards. Nor 
had he the British alone to complain of He present- 
ly found it as hard to satisfy his own countrymen, in 
the matter of a treaty, as to please them. 



153 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

For whether it was that the two nations stih 
retained a most unchristian recollection of what they 
had suffered from one another during the past war — 
or wliether, more unchristianly still, they felt the 
odious spirit of rivals, and sickened at each other's 
prosperity — or whether each nation thought tliat tlie 
ships of ttie other were navigated hy their seamen , 
but so it was, tiiat the prejudice:^ of the two people, 
though sprung from the same progenitors, ran so 
high as to render it extremely difficult for Washing- 
ton to settle matters between them. But it was at 
length happily effected, without the horrors of 
another war. Though the treaty which brought 
about this desirable event was entirely execrated by 
great numbers of sensible and honest men no doubt, 
yet Washington, led, as he says, by duty and human- 
ity, ratilied it. 

If the signing of the treaty displayed his firmness, 
t!ie -operation of it has, perhaps, shown his wisdom. 
For, siu'ely, since that time, no country like this ever 
so progressed in the public and private blessings of 
industry, wealth, population, and morals. Whether 
greater, or, indeed, equal blessings would have re- 
suhed from a bloody war with England at that time, 
let others determine. 

But scarcely had Washington got clear of his em- 
barrassments with Britain, before still worse were 
thrown in his way by France. 

The cause was this. "The French army," as 
Doctor Franklin observes, " having served an appren- 
ticeship to Liberty, in America, on going back to 
France, set up for themselves." Throughout the 
kingdom, wherever they went, they could talk ot 
nothing but the Americans. " Ah, happy people !" 
said they, "neither oppressing nor oppressed, they 
mingle together as one great family of brothers. 
Every man is free. Every man labours for himself, 
and wipes with joy the sweat from his brow, because 
'tis the earnest of plenteous food and clothing, educa- 
tion, and delights, for his children !" 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 153 

The people every where listened with eagerness 
to these descriptions of American happiness, and 
sighed to think of their own wretchedness. The 
smothered fire soon broke out. The press teemed 
with papers and pamphlets on the rights ot Man— 
the true ends of government, — and the blessings of 
Liberty. The eyes of the great nation were present- 
[y opened to a sight of her degraded and wretched 
state. Then suddenly springing up, like a mighty 
giantess from the hated bed of violation and dis- 
honour, she began a course of vengeance as terrible 
as it had been long delayed. The imfortunate king 
and queen were quickly brought low. The heads of 
her tyrants every where bounded on the floors of 
the guillotine ; while in every place dogs licked the 
blood of nobles : and the bodies of great lords were 
scattered like dung over the face of the earth. 

Fearing that if France were suffered to go on at 
this rate, there would not in a little time, be a crown 
left in Europe, the crowned heads all confederated 
to arrest her progress. The whole surrounding 
world, both by land and water, was in commotion : 
and tremendous fleets and armies poured in from 
every side, to overwhelm her. With unanimity and 
valour equal to their dangers, the war-loving Gauls 
rushed forth in crowding millions to meet their foes. 
The mighty armies joined in battle, appearing to the 
terrified eye, as if the whole human race were rush- 
ing together for mutual destruction. But not content 
with setting the eastern world on fire, the furious 
combatants (like Milton's warring Spirits tearing up 
and flinging mountains and islands at each other) 
flew to America to seize and drag her into their 
war. 

Flaming on this errand, Mr. Genet lighted on out 
continent as an envoy from France. He was 
received with joy as a brother republican. The peo- 
ple every where welcomed him as the representative 
of a beloved nation, to whom, under God, they owed 



154 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

their liberties. Grand dinners were given — spark 
ling bumpers were filled — and standing up round the 
vast convivial board, with joined hands, and cheeks 
glowing with friendship and the generous juice, they 
rent the air witli — " health and fraternity to the 
sister republics of France and America." 

Washington joined in the general hospitality to 
the stranger. He extolled the valour, and congratu- 
lated the victories of his brave countrymen. "Born, 
sir,'' said he, " in a land of Liberty, for whose sake 
I have spent the best years of my life in war, I can- 
not but feel a trembhng anxiety whenever 1 see an 
oppressed people drawing their swords and rearing 
aloft the sacred banners of freedom." 

Enraptured at finding in America such a cordial 
spirit towards his country, Mr. Genet instantly set 
himself to call it into the fullest exertion. And by 
artfully ringing the changes on British cruelty, and 
French generosity, to the Americans, he so far 
succeeded as to prevail on some persons in Charles- 
ton to commence the equipment of privateers against 
the British. Dazzled by the lustre of false gratitude 
to one nation, they lost sight of their horrid hijustice 
to another : and during the profoundest peace be- 
tween England and America, when the American 
planters, by their flour, rice, and cotton, were making 
money almost as fast as if they had mints upon 
their estates; and when, on the other hand, the 
British artisans were driving on their manufactures 
day and night for the Americans — in this sacred 
season and blissful state of things, certain persons 
in Charleston began to equip privateers against 
England. 

Grieved that his countrymen should be capable of 
such an outrage against justice, against humanity, and 
every thing sacred among men ; and equally grieved 
to see them so far forget, so far belittle themselves as 
to become willing cat's paws of one nation, to tear 
another to pieces, he instantly issued his proclama- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 155 

tion, stating it as the " duty, and therefore the 
interest of the United States, to preservre the strictest 
neutraUty between the belligerents : and prohibiting 
the citizens of the United States, from all manner of 
interference in the unhappy contest." 

This so enraged Mr. Genet, that he threatened to 
appeal from the president to the people ! i. e. in 
plain English, to try to overthrow the government of 
the United States ! ! 

But, thank God, the American people were too 
wise and virtuous to hear these things without feeling 
and expressing a suitable indignation. They rallied 
around their beloved president ; and soon gave this 
most inconsiderate stranger to understand, that he 
had insulted the sacred person of their father. 

Washington bore this insult with his usual good 
temper ! but at the same time look such prudent 
measures with the French government, that Mr. 
Genet was quickly recalled. 

Having at length attained the acme of all his 
wishes — having lived to see a general and efficient 
government adopted, and for eight years in success- 
ful operation, exalting his country from the brink of 
mfamy and ruin to the highest ground of prosperity 
and honour, both at home and abroad — abroad, peace 
with Britain — with Spain — and, some slight heart 
burnings excepted, peace with France, and with all 
the world : at home, peace with the Indians — our 
shining ploughshares laying open the best treasures 
of the earth — our ships flying over every sea — dis- 
tant nations feeding on our bread, and manufacturing 
our staples — our revenue rapidly increasing with our 
credit, religion, learning, arts, and whatever tends to 
national glory and happiness, he determined to lay 
down that load of public care which he had borne 
so long, and which, now in his 66th year, he found 
was growing too heavy for him. But feeling 
towards his countryron the solicitude of a father for 
his children, o^er whom he had long watched, but 



.'56 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

whom he was about to leave to themselves ; and 
fearing, on the one liand, that they might go astray, 
and hoping, on the other, that from his long labours 
of love, he might be permitted to impart the counsels 
of his long experience, he drew up for them a fare- 
well address, which the filial piety of the nation has 
since called " his Legacy." 

As this little piece, about the length of an ordinary 
sermon, may do as much good to the people ot 
America as any sermon ever preached, that Divine 
one on the mount excepted, I shall offer no apology 
for laying it before them; especially as I well know 
that they will all read it with the feehngs of children 
reading the last letter of a once loved father now in 
his grave. And who knows but it may check for 
a while the fatal flame of discord which has destroy- 
ed all the once glorious republics of antiquity, and 
here now at length in the United States has caught 
upon the last republic that is left on the face of the 
earth. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOiN. 137 

WASHINGTON'S LAST WORDS 

TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES 

September, 1790. 

^Friends and Fellow Citizens, 

" The period for a new election of a citizen, to 
administer the executive government of the United 
States, being not far distant — and the time actually- 
arrived when your thoughts must be employed m 
designating the person who is to be clothed with that 
important trust — it appears to me proper, especially 
as it may conduce to a more distinct expression of 
the public voice, that I should now apprise you of 
the resolution I have formed, to decline being con- 
sidered among the number of those out of whom a 
choice is to be made. 

" I beg you, at the same time, to do me the justice 
to be assured, that this resolution has not been taken 
without a strict regard to all the considerations 
appertaining to the relation which binds a dutiful 
citizen to his country; and that, in withdrawing the 
tender of service, which silence in my situation might 
imply, I am influenced by no diminution of zeal 
for your future interest, no deficiency of grateful 
respect for your past kindness ; but am supported 
by a full conviction, that the step is compatible wilh 
both. 

"The acceptance of, and continuance hitherto in, 
the office to which your suff'rages have twice called 
me, have been a uniform sacrifice of inclination to 
the opinion of duty, and to a deference for what 
appeared to be your desire. I constantly hoped, 
that it would have been much earlier in my power, 
consistently with motives which I was not at liberty 

14 13 



158 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

to disregard, to return to that retirement from which 

had been reluctantly drawn. The strength of my 
inclination to do this previous to the last election, 
had even led to the preparation of an address to 
declare it to you. But mature reflection on the then 
perplexed and critical posture of our aflairs with 
foreign nations, and the unanimous advice of persons 
entitled to my confidence, impelled me to abandon 
the idea. 

<* I rejoice that the state of your concerns, external 
as well as internal, no longer renders the pursuit of 
inclination incompatible with the sentiment of duty 
or propriety ; and am persuaded, whatever partiality 
may be retained for my services, that, in the present 
circumstances of our country, you will not disapprove 
my determination to retire. 

'' The impressions with which I first undertook the 
arduous trust, were explained on the proper occa- 
sions. In the discharge of this trust, I will only say, 
that I have, with good intentions, contributed towards 
the organization and administration of the govern- 
ment, the best exertions of which a very fallible 
judgment was capable. Not unconscious, in the 
outset, of the inferiority of my qualifications, ex- 
perience in my own eyes, perhaps still more in the 
eyes of others, has strengthened the motives to 
diffidence of myself : and every day the increasing 
weight of years admonishes me more and more that 
the shade of retirement is as necessary to me as it 
will be welcome. Satisfied that if any circumstances 
have given peculiar value to my services, they 
were temporary, I have the consolation to believe, 
that while choice and prudence invite me to quit the 
political scene, patriotism does not forbid it. 

"In looking forward to the moment which is 
intended to terminate the career of my public life, 
my feelings do not permit me to suspend the deep 
acknowledgment of that debt of gratitude which I 
owe to my beloved country, for the many honours it 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 159 

has conferred upon me ; still more for the steadfast 
confidence with which it has supported me ; and for 
the opportunities I have thence enjoyed of manifest- 
ing my inviolable attachment, by services faithful 
and persevering, though in usefulness unequal to 
my zeal. If benefits have resulted to our country 
from these services, let it always be remembered to 
your praise, and as an instructive example in our 
annals, that, under circumstances, in which the 
passions, agitated in every direction, were liable to 
mislead — amidst appearances sometimes dubious — 
vicissitudes of fortune often discouraging — in situa- 
tions in which not unfrequently want of success has 
countenanced the spirit of criticism — the constancy 
of your support was the essential prop of the efforts, 
and a guarantee of the plans by which they were 
eff'ected. Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I 
shall carry it with me to my grave, as a strong 
incitement to unceasing vows that Heaven may 
continue to you the choicest tokens of its bene- 
ficence ; that your union and brotherly affection 
may be perpetual ; that the free constitution, which 
is the work of your hands, may be sacredly main- 
tained ; that its administration, in every department, 
may be stamped with wisdom and virtue ; that, in 
fine, the happiness of the people of these states, 
under the auspices of Heaven, may be made com- 
plete, by so careful a preservation and so prudent 
a use of liberty, as will acquire to them the glory of 
recommending it to the applause, the affection, and 
the adoption of every nation which is yet a stra .ger 
to it. 

" Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But a s' iicitudo 
for your welfare, which cannot end but with my life, 
and the apprehension of danger, natural to that soli- 
citude, urge me, on an occasion like the present, to 
offer to your solemn contemplation, and to recom- 
mend to your frequent review, some sentiments, 
which are the result of much reflection, of no incon- 



160 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

siderablo observation, and which appear to me all 
important to the permanency of your felicity as a 
people. These will be offered to you with the more 
freedom, as you can only see in them the disinterested 
warnings of a partmg friend, who can possibly have 
no personal motive to bias his counsel. Nor can 1 
forget, as an encouragement to it, your indulgent 
reception of my sentiments on a former and not 
dissimilar occasion. 

" Interwoven as is the love of liberty with every 
ligament of your hearts, no recommendation of mine 
is necessary to fortify or confirm the attachment. 

"The unity of government, which constitutes you 
one people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so ; 
for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real inde- 
pendence; the support of your tranquillity at home, 
your peace abroad ; of your safety ; of your prospe- 
rity ; of that very liberty which you so highly prize. 
But as it is easy to foresee, that from different causes, 
and from different quarters, much pains will be taken, 
many artifices employed, to weaken in your minds 
the conviction of this truth ; as this is the point in 
your political fortress, against which the batteries of 
internal and external enemies will be most constantly 
and actively (though often covertly and insidiously) 
directed ; it is of infinite moment, that you should 
properly estimate the immense value of your national 
union, to your collective and individual happmess ; 
that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and im- 
moveable attachment to it ; accustoming yourselves 
to think and speak of it as of the palladium of your 
political safety and prosperity ; watching for its pre- 
servation with jealous anxiety ; discountenancing 
whatever may suggest even a suspicion that it can 
m any event be abandoned; and indignantly frown- 
mg upon the first dawmng of every attempt to alien 
any portion of our country from the rest or to en- 
feeble the sacred ties which now link together tho 
various parts. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 161 

" For this you have every inducement of sympathy 
and interest. Citizens, by birth or choice, of a com- 
mon country, that country lias a right to concentrate 
your affections. The name of American, which be- 
longs to you in your national capacity, nmst always 
exa i the just pride of patriotism, more than any ap- 
peLation derived from local discriminations. With 
shght shades of difference, you have the same reli- 
gion, manners, habits and political principles. You 
have, in a common cause, fought and triumphed to- 
gether. The independence and liberty you possess 
are the work of joint councils, and joint efforts — of 
common dangers, sufferings and successes. 

"But these considerations, however powerfully 
they address themselves to your sensibility, are 
greatly outweighed by those which apply more im- 
mediately to your interest. Here every poition of 
our country finds the most commanding motives for 
carefully guarding and preserving the union of the 
whole. 

" The NORTH, in an unrestrained intercourse with 
the SOUTH, protected by the equal laws of a common 
government, finds in the productions of the latter, 
great additional resources of maritime and commer- 
cial enterprize, and precious materials of manufac- 
turing industry. The SOUTH, in the same intercourse 
benefiting by the agency of the north, sees its agri- 
culture grow, and its commerce expand. Turning 
partly into its own channels the seamen of the north, 
it finds its particular navigation invigorated : and 
while it contributes, in different ways, to nourish and 
Increase the general mass of the national navigation, 
it looks forward to the protection of a maritime 
strength, to which itself is unequally adapted. — The 
EAST, in a like intercourse with the west, already 
finds, and in the progressive improvement of interior 
communications, by land and water, will more and 
more find a valuable vent lor the commodities which 
It brings from abroad, or manufactures at home. — 
14* .13-* 



162 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

The WEST derives from the east snpphes requisite 
to its growth and comfort : and what is, perhaps, of 
still greater consequence, it must of necessity owe 
the SECURE enjoyment of indispensible outlets for 
its own productions, to the weight, influence, and 
the future maritime strength of the Atlantic side of 
the Union, directed by an indissoluble community of 
interest, as one nation. Any other tenure, by which 
the west can hold this essential advantage, whether 
derived from its own separate strength, or from an 
apostate and unnatural connexion with any foreign 
power must be intrinsically precarious. 

" While then every part of our country thus feels 
an immediate and particular interest in union, all the 
parties combined cannot fail to find, in the united 
mass of means and efforts, greater strength, greater 
resources, proportionably greater security from exter- 
nal danger, a less frequent interruption of their peace 
by foreign nations. And, what is of inestimable 
value, they must derive from union au exemption 
from those broils and wars between themselves, 
which so frequently afflict neighbouring countries, 
not tied together by the same government ; which 
their own rivalships alone would be sufficient to pro- 
duce, but which opposite foreign alliances, attach- 
ments, and intrigues, would stimulate and embitter. 
Hence, likewise, they will avoid the necessity of 
those overgrown military establishments, which 
under any form of government, are inauspicious to 
liberty; and which are to be regarded as particularly 
hostile to republican liberty. In this sense it is, that 
your union ought to be considered as a main prop of 
your liberty, and that the love of the one ought to 
endear to you the preservation of the other. 

"These considerations speaka persuasive language 
to every reflecting and virtuous mind ; and exhibit 
the continuance of the union as a primary object of 
patriotic desire. Is there a doubt, whether a common 
government can embrace so targe a spb>?re. Let 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 163 

experience solve it. To listen to mere speculation 
in such a case were criminal. We are authorised to 
hope that a proper organization of the whole, with 
the auxihary agency of governments for the respective 
subdivisions, will afford a happy issue to the experi- 
ment. 'Tis well worth a fair and full experiment. 
With such powerful and obvious motives to union, 
affecting all parts of our country, while experience 
shall not have demonstrated its impracticability, there 
will always be reason to distrust the patriotism of 
those, Avho in any quarter may endeavor to weaken 
its bands. 

" In contemplating the causes which may disturb 
our union, it occurs, as a matter of serious concern, 
that any ground should have been furnished for cha- 
racterizing parties by geographical discriminations — 
northern and southern — atlanticand western ; whence 
designing men may endeavor to excite a belief, that 
there is a real difference of local interests and views. 
One of the expedients of party to acquire influence, 
within particular districts, is to misrepresent the 
opinions and aims of other districts. You cannot 
shield yourselves too much against the jealousies 
and heart-burnings which spring from these misre- 
presentations. They tend to render alien to each 
other, those who ought to be bound together by fra- 
ternal affection. The inhabitants of our western 
country have lately had a useful lesson on this head. 
They have seen, in the negociation by the executive, 
and in the unanimous ratification by the senate, of 
the treaty with Spain, and in the universal satisfac- 
tion at that event throughout the United States, a 
decisive proof how unfounded were the suspicions 
propagated among them, of a policy in the general 
government, and in the Atlantic States, unfriendly to 
their interest in regard to the Mississippi. They 
have been witnesses to the formation of two treaties, 
that with Great-Britain, and that with Spain, wliich 
secure to them every thing they could desire, m 



164 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

respect to our foreign relations, towards confirming 
their posterity. Will it not be their wisdom to rely 
for the preservation of these advantages on the union 
by which they were procured ? Will they not hence 
forth be deaf to those advisers, if such there are, who 
would sever from them their brethren, and connect 
^hem with aliens ? 

"To the efficacy and permanency of your union, 
a government for the whole is indispensable. No al- 
liances, however strict, between the parts, can be an 
adequate substitute. They must inevitably experience 
the infractions and interruptions which all alliances 
in all times have experienced. Sensible of this mo- 
mentous truth, you have improved upon your first 
essay, by the adoption of a constitution of govern- 
ment belter calculated than your former, for an inti- 
mate union, and for the efficacious management of 
your common concerns. This government, the oif 
spring of your own choice, uninfluenced and una wed, 
adopted upon full investigation and mature delibera- 
tion, completely free in its principles, in the distribu- 
tion of its powers, uniting security with energy, and 
containing within itself a provision for its own 
amendment, has a just claim to your confidence and 
your support. Respect for its authority, compliance 
with its laws, acquiescence in its measures, are duties 
enjoined by the fundamental maxims of true liberty. 
The basis of our political systems is the right of the 
people to make and alter their constitutions of gov- 
ernment. But the constitution which at any time 
exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic act 
of the whole people, is sacredly obligatory upon all. 
The very idea of the power and the right of the 
people to establish government, pre-supposes the 
duty of ever/ individual to obey the established 
government. 

" All obstructions to the execution of the laws, all 
combinations and associations, under whatever plau- 
sible character, with a real desien to direct, control, 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 165 

counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and action 
of the constituted authorities, are destructive of this 
fundamental principle, and of fatal tendency. They 
serve to organize faction ; to give it an artificial and 
extraordinary force ; to put in the place of the dele- 
gated will of the nation, the will of a party, often a 
small, but artful and enterprising minority of the 
community ; and, according to the alternate triumphs 
of different parties, to make the public administration 
the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongruous pro- 
jects of faction, rather than the organ of consistent 
and wholesome plans, digested by common counsels, 
and modified by mutual interests. 

" However combinations or associations of the 
above description may now and then answer popular 
ends, they are likely, in the course of time and things, 
to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambi- 
tious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to sub- 
vert the power of the people ; and to usurp to them- 
selves the reins of government ; destroying after- 
wards the very engines which have lifted them to 
unjust dominion. 

" Towards the preservation of your government, 
and the permanency of your present happy state, it 
is requisite, not only that you speedily discountenance 
irregular oppositions to its acknowledged authority, 
but also that you resist with care the spirit of inno- 
vation upon its principles, however specious the 
pretexts. One method of assault may be to effect, 
in the forms of the constitution, alterations which 
will impair the energy of the system ; and thus to 
undermine what cannot be directly overthrown. In 
all the changes to which you may be invited, remem- 
ber that time and habit are at least as necessary to 
fix the true character of government, as of other hu- 
man institutions; that experience is the surest stand- 
ard, by which to test the real tendency of the existing 
constitution of a country ; that facility in changes, 
upon the credit of mere hypothesis and opuiion. 



166 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 

exposes ^o perpetual change, from the endless variety 
of hypothesis and opinion. And remember, f^specially, 
that for the efficient management of your mmmoii 
mterests, in a country so extensive as ours, a govern- 
ment of as much vigor as is consistent with the 
perfect security of liberty, i^ indispensable. Liberty 
itself will find in such a government, with powers 
properly distributed and adjusted, its surest guardian. 
It is, indeed, little else than a nam-e, where the gov- 
ernment is too feeble to withstand the enterprises of 
faction ; to confine each member of the society within 
the limits prescribed by the laws ; and to maintain 
all in the secure and tranquil enjoyment of the rights 
of person and property. 

'■' I have already intimated to you the danger of 
the parties in the state, with particular reference to 
the founding of them on geographical discriminations. 
Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and 
warn you in the most solemn manner against the 
baneful effects of the spirit of party, generally. 

" This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from 
our nature, having its root in the strongest passions 
of the human mind. It exists mider different shapes 
in all governments, more or less stilled, controlled, or 
repressed. But in those of the popular form, it is seen 
m its greatest rankness; and is truly their worst 
enemy. 

" The alternate dominion of one faction over 
another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural 
to party dissention, v/hich, in different ages and 
countries, has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, 
is itself frightful despotism. But this leads at length 
to a formal and permanent despotism. The disorders 
and miseries which result, gradually incline the minds 
of men to seek security and repose in the absolute 
power of an individual. And, sooner or later, the 
chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more 
fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition 
to the purposes of his own elevation, on the luins oi 
public liberty. 



LIFE OF WASIIiNGTON. 16^ 

« Without looking forward to ^n extremity of this 
kind (which, nevertheless, ought not to be entirely 
put of sight,) the common and continual mischiefs of 
the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest 
and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it. 

" It serves always to distract the public councils, 
and enfeeble the public administration. It agitates 
the community with ill founded jealousies and false 
alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against 
another ; foments occasionally riot and insurrection ; 
and opens the door to foreign influence and corrup- 
tion, which find a facilitated access to the government 
itself through the channels of party passions. Thus 
the policy and Avill of one country are subjected to 
the policy and will of another. 

" There is an opinion that parties in free countries 
are useful checks upon the administration of the gov- 
ernment, and serve to keep alive the spirit of liberty. 
This, within certain limits, is probably true, and, in 
governments of a monarchical cast, patriotism may 
look with indulgence, if not with favor, upon the 
spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, 
in governments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be 
encouraged. From their natural tendency, it is cer- 
tain there will always be enough of this spirit for 
every salutary purpose. And there being constant 
danger of excess, the effort ought to be, by force of 
public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire 
not to be quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance 
to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of 
warming, it should consume. 

**It is important, likewise, that the habits of think- 
ing in a free country should inspire caution, in those 
entrusted with its administration, to confine themsel- 
ves within their respective constitutional spheres, 
avoiding, in the exercise of the powers of one depart- 
ment, to encroach upon another. The spirit of en- 
2roachm( nt tends to consolidate the powers of all the 
departments in one, and thus to create, whatever the 



168 LIFE OF WASHINGTOiN. 

form of government, a real despotisai. A just esti- 
mate of that love of power, and proneness to abuse 
it, which predominates in the human heart, is suffi- 
cient to satisfy us of the truth of tliis position. The 
necessity of reciprocal checks, in the exercise of poh- 
tical power, by dividing and distributing it into dif- 
ferent depositories, and constituting each the guardian 
of pubhc weal against invasions by the others, has 
been evincea by experiments ancient and modern ; 
some of them in our country, and under our own 
eyes. To preserve them must be as necessary as to 
institute them. U, in the opinion of the people, the 
distribution or modification of the constitutional pow- 
ers be in any particular wrong, let it be corrected by 
an amendment in the way which the constitution 
designates. But let there be no change by usurpa- 
tion ; for though this, in one instance, may be the 
instrument of good, it is the customary weapon by 
which free governments are destroyed. The precedent 
must always greatly overbalance, in permanent evil, 
any partial or transient benefit which the use can at 
any time yield. 

" Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to 
political prosperity, religion and morality are indis- 
pensable supports. In vain would that man claim 
the tribute of patriotism, who should labor to sub- 
vert these great pillars of human happiness, these 
firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The 
mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought 
to respect and to cherish them. A volume could not 
trace all their connexions with private and public 
felicity. Let it be simply asked, where is the security 
for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of 
religious obligations desert the oaths, which are the 
instruments of investigation in the courts of justice? 
And let us with caution indulge the supposition, that 
morality can be obtained without religion. What- 
ever maybe conceded to the influence of refined edu- 
cation on minds of peculiar structure, reason and ex 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOxV. 16» 

perience both forbid i\s to expect that national moral- 
ity can prevail in exclusion of rehgious principle. 

" n^'is substantially true, that virtue or morality is 
a necessary spring of popular government. The rule 
indeed extends with more or less force to every spe- 
cies of free government. Who that is a sincere 
friend to it can look with indifference upon at- 
tempts to shake the foundation of the fabric ? 

'^Promote, then, as an objeot of primary import- 
ance, institutions for the general diffusion of know 
ledge. In proportion as the structure of a govern- 
ment gives force to public opinion, it is essential that 
public opinion should be enlightened. 

"As a very important source of strength and se- 
curity, cherish public credit. One method of preserv 
ing it, is to use it as sparingly as possible ; avoiding 
occasions of expense by cultivating peace ; but re- 
membering also that timely disbursements to prepare 
for danger frequently prevent much greater disburse- 
ments to repel it; avoiding likewise the accumula- 
tions of debt, not only by shunning occasions of 
expense, but by vigorous exertions, in time of peace, 
to discharge the debts which unavoidable wars may 
have occasioned ; not imgenerously throwing upju 
posterity the burden which we ourselves ought to 
bear. The execution of these maxims belongs to 
your representatives; but it is necessary that public 
opinion should co-operate. To facilitate to them the 
performance of their duty, it is essential that you 
should practically bear in mind, that towards the pay- 
ment of debts there must be revenue ; that to have 
revenue there must be taxes ; that no taxes can be 
devised which are not more or less inconvenient and 
unpleasant ; that the intrinsic embarrassment inse- 
parable from the selection of the proper object (which 
is always a choice of difficulties) ought to be a deci- 
sive motive for a candid construction of the conduct 
of the government in making it, and for a spirit ol 

15 14 



170 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

acquiescence in the measures for obtaining rev^enue, 
which the pubhc exigencies may at any time dictate. 

" Observe good faith and justice towards all na- 
tions ; cultivate peace and harmony with all. Reli- 
gion and morality enjohi this conduct : and can it be 
that good policy does not equally enjoin it ? It will be 
worthy of a free, enlightened, and at no distant period 
a great nation, to give to mankind the magnanimous 
and too novel exam|||k of a people always guided by 
an exalted justice aiia benevolence. Who can doubt 
that m the course of time and things, the fruits of 
such a plan would richly repay any temporary ad- 
vantages which might be lost by a steady adherence 
to it. Can it be, that Providence has not connected 
the permanent fehcity of a nation with its virtue ? 
The experimenl^ at least, is recommended by every 
sentiment which ennobles human nature. Alas ! is 
it rendered impossible by its vices ? 

" In the execution of such a plan, nothing is more 
essential than that permanent, inveterate antipathies 
against particular nations, and passionate attachments 
fDr others, should be excluded ; and that in place of 
them just and amicable feelings towards all should 
be cultivated. The nation which indulges towards 
another an habitual hatred, or an habitual fondness, 
is in some degree a slave. It is a slave to its ani- 
mosity or to its affection, either of which is sufficient 
to lead it astray from its duty and its interest. Anti- 
pathy in one nation against another disposes each 
more readily to offer insult and injury ; to lay hold 
of slight causes of umbrage ; and to be haughty and 
intractable, when accidental or trifling occasions of 
dispute occur. Hence frequent collisions, obstinate, 
envenomed, and bloody contests. The nation, 
prompted by ill-will and resentment, sometimes 
impels to war the government, contrary to the bes* 
Cciloiiiations of policy. The government sometimes 
pa.ucipa+es in the national propensity; and adopts, 
throu?' jjassion, wliat reason would reject. At other 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 171 

times, it makes the animosity of the nation subser- 
vient to projects of hostility, instigated by pride, am- 
bition, and other sinister and pernicious motives. 
The peace often, sometimes perhaps the hberty, of 
nations has been the victim. 

" So, hkevvise, a passionate attachment of one na 
tion for another produces a variety of evils. Sympa- 
thy for the favorite nation, facilitating the iUusion of 
an imaginary common interenJ;, in cases where no 
real common interest exists, and infusing into one the 
enmities of the other, betrays the former into a par- 
ticipation in the quarrels and wars of the latter, with- 
out adequate inducement or justification. It leads 
also to concessions to the favorite nation, of privileges 
denied to others, which is apt doubly to injure the 
nation, making the concessions; by unnecessarily 
parting with what ought to have been retained ; and 
by exciting jealousy, ill-will,' and a disposition to 
retaliate, in the parties from whom equal privileges 
are withheld. And it gives to ambitious, corrupted, 
or deluded citizens (who devote themselves to the 
favourite nation) facility to betray or sacrifice the 
interests of their own country, without odium, some- 
times even with popularity ; gilding, with the appear- 
ances of a virtuous sense of obligation, a commend- 
able deference for public opinion, or a laudable zeal 
for public good, the base or foolish compliances of 
ambition, corruption, or infatuation. 

" As avenues to foreign influence in innumerable 
ways, such attachments are particularly alarming to 
the'truly enlightened and independent patriot. How 
many opportunities do they afford to tamper with 
domestic factions ; to practise the arts of seduction ; 
to mislead public opinion ; to influence or awe the 
public councils ! Such an attachment of a small or 
weak, towards a great and powerful nation, dooms 
the former to be the satellite of the latter. 

" Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence 
(I conjure you. to believe me, fellow-citizens) the 
iealousy of a free people ought to be constantly 



172 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

awake ; since history and experience prove that 
foreign intiuence is one of the most baneful foes ot 
republican government. But that jealousy, to be 
useful, must be impartial ; else it becomes the instru- 
ment of the very influence to be avoided, instead of 
a defence against it. Excessive partiality for one 
foreign natio"n,and excessive dislike of another, cause, 
those whom they actuate, to see danger only on one 
side ; and serve to veil and even second tlie arts of 
influence on the other. Real patriots, who may 
resist the mtrigues of the favorite, are liable to become 
suspected and odious, while its fools and dupes usurp 
the applause and confidence of the people, to sur- 
render their interests. 

" The great rule of conduct for us, in regard to 
foreign nations, is, in extending our commercial rela- 
tions, to have with them as little political connexion 
as possible. So far as we have already formed en- 
gagements, let them be fulfilled with perfect good 
faith. Here let us stop. 

" Europe has a set of primary interests, which to 
us have none, or a very remote relation. Hence she 
must be engaged in frequent controversies, the 
causes of which are essentially foreign to our concerns 
Hence, therefore, it must be unwise in us to implicate 
ourselves, by artificial ties, in the ordinary vicissitudes 
of her politics,or the ordinary combinations and colli- 
sions of her friendships or enmities. 

" Our detached and distant situation invites and 
enables us to pursue a difterent course. If we remaiL 
one people, under an efficient government, the period 
is not farotf, when we may defy material injury from 
external annoyance ; when we may take such an 
attitude as will cause the neutrality, we may at any 
time resolve upon, to be scrupulously respected ; 
when belligerent nations, under the impossibility of 
making acquisitions upon us, will not lightly hazard 
the giving us provocations ; when we may choose 
puace or war, os our interest, guided by justice, shall 
coansel. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 173 

" Why forego the advantages of so peculiar a situa- 
tion ? Why quit oiu' own, to stand upon foreign 
ground ? Why, by interweaving our destiny with 
that of any part of Europe, entangle our peace and 
prosperity in the toils of European ambition, rivaJ- 
ship, interest, humour, or caprice ? 

" 'Tis our true policy to steer clear of permanent 
alliances, with any portion of the foreign world ; so 
far, I mean, as Ave are now at liberty to do it ; for let 
me not be understood as capable of patronising in- 
fidelity to existing engagements. I hold the maxim 
no less applicable to public than to private affairs, 
that honesty is always the best policy. I repeat it, 
therefore, let those engagements be observed in their 
genuine sense. But, in my opinion, it is unnecessary, 
and would be unwise, to extend them. 

" Taking care always to keep ourselves, by suitable 
establishments, in a respectable defensive posture, 
we may safely trust to temporary alliances for extra- 
ordinary emergencies. 

"Harmony and a liberal intercourse withall nations, 
are recommended by policy, humanity, and interest. 
But even our commercial policy should hold an equal 
and impartial hand ; neither seeking nor granting 
exclusive favors or preferences; consulting the natural 
course of things ; diff'using and diversifying by gentle 
means the streams of commerce^ but forcing notliing ; 
establishing, (with powers so disposed, in order to 
give trade a stable course, to define the rights of our 
merchants, and to enable the government to support 
them.) conventional rules of intercourse, the best that 
present circumstances and mutual opinion will permit, 
but temporary, and liable to be from time to time 
abandoned or varied, as experience and circumstances 
shall dictate ; constantly keeping in view, that it is 
folly in one nation to look for disinterested favors 
from another ; that it must pay with a portion of its 
aidependence, for whatever it may accept under that 
jharacter; that, by such acceptance, it may place 
15^ U* 



174 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

itself in the condition of having given equivalents for 
nominal favors, and yet of being reproacherl with 
mgratitude for not giving more. There can be no 
greater error than to expect or calculate upon real 
favors from nation to nation. It is an illusion which 
experience must cure, which a just pride ouglit to 
discard. 

" In offering to you, my countrymen, these coun- 
sels of an old and affectionate friend, I dare not hope 
they will make the strong and lasting impression I 
could wish ; that they will control the usual current 
of the passions, or prevent our nation from running 
the course which has hitherto marked the destiny of 
nations ! but, if I may even flatter myself, that they 
may be productive of some partial benefit, some oc- 
casional good ; that they may now and then recur to 
moderate the fury of party spirit ; to warn against 
the mischiefs of foreign intrigue ; to guard against 
the impostures of pretended patriotism; this hope 
will be a full recompense for the solicitude for youi 
welfare, by which they have been dictated. 

" How far, in the discharge of my official duties, I 
have been guided by the principles which have been 
delineated, the public records and other evidences of 
my conduct must witness to you and to the world. 
To myself, the assurance of my own conscience is, 
that I have, at least, believed myself to be guided by 
them. 

" In relation to the still subsisting war in Europe, 
my proclamation of the 22nd of April, 1793, is the 
index to my plan. Sanctioned by your approving 
voice, and 63" that of your representatives in both 
houses of congress, the spirit of that measure has 
continually governed me, uninlluenced by any at- 
tempts to deter or divert me from it. 

" After deliberate examination, with the aid of the 
best lights I could obtain, I was well satisfied that 
our country, under all the circumstances of the case, 
had a right to take, and was bound in duty ami 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 175 

interest to take, a neutral position. Having taken it^ 
I determined, as far as should depend upon me, to 
maintain it with moderation, perseverance and firm 
ness. 

" The considerations which respect the right to 
hold this conduct, it is not necessary on this occasion 
to detail. I will only observe, that according to my 
understanding of the matter, that right, so far from 
being denied by any of the belligerent powers, has 
been virtually admitted by all. 

" The duty of holding a neutral conduct may be 
inferred, without anything more, from the obligation 
which justice and humanity impose on every nation, 
in cases in which it is free to act, to maintain in- 
violate the relations of peace and amity towards 
other nations. 

" The inducements of interest for observing that 
conduct will best be referred to your own reflections 
and experience. With me, a predominant motive 
has been to endeavour to gain time to our country 
to settle and mature its yet recent institutions, and 
to progress without interruption to that degjee ot 
strength and consistency, which is necessary to give 
it, humanly speaking, the command of its own 
fortunes. 

" Though, in reviewing the incidents of my 
administration, I am unconscious of intentional 
error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects, 
not to think it probable that I may have committed 
many errors. Whatever they may be, I fervently 
beseech the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils 
to Avhich they may tend. I shall also carry with me 
the hope that my country will never cease to vievv^ 
ihem with indulgence ; and that, after forty-five 
years of my life dedicated to its service, with an up- 
right zeal, the faults of incompetent abilities will be 
consigned to oblivion, as myself must soon be to the 
mansions of rest. 

" Relying on its kindness in this as in other things, 



176 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

and actuated by that fervent love towards it, which 
is so natural to a man, who vieAVs in it the native 
soil of himself and his progenitors for several gener- 
ations, 1 anticipate with pleasing expectation tha* 
retreat, in wliich I promise myself to realize, without 
alloy, the sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the midst 
of my fellow citizens, the benign influence of good 
laws undLT a free government — the ever fav^ourite 
object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, 
of our mutual cause, labours and dangers. 

G. WASHINGTON 
" United States, > 
27th Sept, 1796." 3 

The appearance of this address in the gazettes of 
the United States, struck every where a damp on the 
spirits of the people. To be thus bidden farewell by 
one to whom, in every time of danger, they had so 
long and so fondly looked up, as, under God, their 
surest and safest friend, could not but prove to them 
a grievous shock. Indeed many could not refrain 
from tears, especially when the^ came to that part 
where he talked of being soon to be "consigned to 
the mansions of rest." 

During the next and last session that he ever met 
congress, which began on the 7th of December, 
1796, he laboured hard to induce that honourable 
body instantly to set about the following public 
works, which, to him, appeared all important to the 
nation. 

1st. Societies and institutions for the improvement 
of agriculture. 

2d. A navy. 

,3d. A military Academy. 

4lh. A manufactory of arms. 

5th. A national university. 

On the 4th of March, 1797, he took his last leave 
of Philadelphia. Having ever been an enlightened 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 17- 

and virtuous republican, who deems it the lirst of 
duties to honour the man whom the majority of his 
countrymen had chosen to honour, Washington could 
not think of going away, until he had first paid his 
respects to the man of their choice. It was this thai 
retarded his journey — it was this that brought him 
to the senate chamber. 

About eleven o'clock, while the member? of con- 
gress, with numbers of the first characters, were 
assembled in the senate hall, anxiously awaiting the 
arrival of Mr. Adams, a modest rap was heard at 
the door. Supposing it to be the president elect, the 
attention of all was turned to the entry, when lo ! 
instead of Mr. Adams and his suite, who should 
appear but the honoured and beloved form of Wash- 
ington, wuhout attendants^ and in his plain travelling 
dress. Instantly the joy of filial love sprung up in 
all hearts, glowed in every face ; and bursted forth 
in involuntary plaudits from every tongue. Present- 
ly Mr. Adams entered with his attendants; but pass- 
ed on in a great measure unnoticed. The father of 
his country was in the presence of his children, and 
perhaps for the last time ; who then could divide his 
attentions. Riveted on his face was every glistening 
eye ; while busy memory, flying over the many toils 
and dangers of his patriot life, gave the spectators up 
to those delicious thoughts from which no obtruder 
could break them without a sigh. 

Having just waited to congratulate Mr. Adams on 
his inauguration, and very heartily to pray that "his 
government might prove a great joy to himself and 
a blessing to his country," he hastened to Mount Ver- 
non ; to close in peace the short evening of this labo- 
rious life ; and to wait for a better, even for that " rest 
which remaineth for the people of God." 

He carried with him the most fervent prayers of 
congress, that "Heaven would pour its happiest 
sunshine on the decline of his days." But this their 
prayer was not fully answered. On the contrary^ 



na LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

with respect to his country, at least, his evening sun 
went down under a cloud. 

The French directory, engaged in a furious war 
with England, turned to America for aid. But 
Washington, wisely dreading the effects of war on 
his young repubiic, and believing that she had an 
unquestioned right to neutrality, most strictly injoined 
it on his people by proclamation. This so enraged 
tiie directory, that they presently gave orders to theii 
cruizers, to seize American ships on the high seas — 
that equal path which God had spread for the nations 
to trade on ! Washington had sent out general 
Charles C. Pinckney to remonstrate against such 
iniquitous proceedings. The directory would not 
receive him ! but still continued their spoliations on 
our wide-spread and defenceless commerce, ruining 
numbers of innocent families. StiU determined, 
according to Washington's advice, " so to act as to 
put our enemy in the wrong," the American govern- 
ment dispatched two other envoys, Gen. Marshall 
and Elbridge Gerry, to aid Pinckney. But they fared 
no better. Though they only supplicated for peace ; 
though they only prayed to be permitted to make 
explanations, they were still kept by the directory at 
a most mortifying distance ; and, after all, were told, 
that America was not to look for a single smile of 
reconciliation, nor even a word on that subject, until 
her envoys should bring large tribute in their hands ! ! 
This, as Washington had predicted, instantly evapo- 
rated the last drop of American patience. He had 
ahvays said, that " though some very interested or 
deluded persons were much too fond of England and 
France to value America as they ought ; yet he was 
lirmly persuaded, that the great mass of the people 
were hearty lovers of their country ; and, as soon as 
their eyes were open to the grievous injuries done 
iier, would assuredly resent them, like men, to whom 
God had given strong feelings, on purpose to guard 
their rights.'' 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. ITS 

His prediction was gloriously verified For, on 
hearing the word tribute, the American envoys 
instantly took fire! ! while the brave Gen. Pinckney, 
(a revolutionary soldier, and neither Englishman nor 
Frenchman, but a true American,) indignantly ex- 
claimed to the secretary of the directory — "Tribute, 
sir ! no, sir! the Americans pay no tribute ! tell the 
directory, that we will give millions for defence, but 
not a cent for tribute." 

Soon as this demand of the directory was told in 
America, the glorious spirit of '76 was kindled like 
a flash of lightning, from St. Mary's to Maine. 
" What !*' said the people every where, " shall we, 
shall Americans ! who, rather than pay an uncon- 
stitutional three-penny tax on tea, bravely encounter- 
ed a bloody war with Britain, now tam.ely yield to 
France to beggar us at pleasure ? No ! Millions for 
defence, but not a cent for tribute," was nobly rever- 
berated throughout the continent. 

War being now fully expected, the eyes of the 
nation were instantly turned towards Washington, to 
head her armies against the Fiench. He readily 
consented ; but, at the same time, ob.<*erved that there 
would be no war. " The directory," said he, " though 
mad enough to do almost any thing, are yet not quuc 
so mad as to venture an attack, when they shall find 
that the spirit of the nation is up." The event showea 
the usual correctness of his judgment ; for, on discov- 
ering that America, though very willing to be the 
sister, had no notion of being the slave of France — on 
learning that Washington was roused, and the 
strength of the nation rallying around him — and also 
that the American tars, led on by the gallant Trux- 
ton, had spread the fiery stars of liberty, blasting on 
every sea the sickly fleurs-de-luce, of gallic piracy, 
the directory very sagaciously signified a disposition 
to accommodate. Mr. Adams immediately despatched 
three new envoys to the French republic. By the 
time they got there, the French republic was no 



180 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

more I Bonaparte, believing that volatile people in 
capable of governing for themselves, had kindly 
undertaken to govern for them ; and having, en 
passant, kicked the directory from their seats, he 
seized their ill-managed power, and very leisurely 
mounted the throne of the Bourbons. Dazzled with 
the splendor of his talents and victories, the great 
nation quietly yielded to his reign ; and with a happy 
versatility peculiar to themselves, exchanged the tu- 
multuous and bloody " Caira," for the milder notes 
of " vive Tempereur." With this wonderful man, 
the American envoys found no difficulty to negotiate; 
for having no wish to rc-unite America to his hated 
enemy, Britain, he received them very graciously; 
and presently settled all their claims in a satisfactory 
manner. Thus lovingly did the breath of God blow 
away once more the black cloud of war, and restore 
the bright day of peace to our favoured land ! But 
Washington never lived to rejoice with his country- 
men in the sunshine of that peace ; for before it 
reached our shores, he had closed his eyes fo- ever 
on all mortal things. 



CHAPTER XH. 

THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 

And when disease obstructs the labouring breath, 
When the heart sickens and each pulse is death, 
Even then Religion shall sustain the just ; 
Grace their last moments ; nor desert their dust. 

IF the prayers of millions could have prevailed, 
Washington would have been immortal on earth. 
And if fulness of peace, riches, and honours could 
have rendered that immortality happy, Washington 
had been blessed indeed. But this world is not the 
place of true happiness. Though numberless are the 
satisflictions, which a prudence and virtue like Wash 



J.IFE OF WASHINGTON. 181 

mgton's may enjoy in this world, yet they fall short, 
infinite degrees, of that pure, unembittered felicity 
which the Almighty parent has prepared in lieaven 
for the spirits of the just. 

To prepare for this immensity of bliss, is the real 
errand on which God sent us into the world. Our 
preparation consists in acquiring those great virtues, 
Durity and love, which alone can make ns worthy 
companions of angels, and fit partakers of their ex- 
alted delights. Washington had wisely spent his hfe 
in acquiring the immortal virtues. " He had fought 
the good figlit" against his own unreasonable aflec- 
tions. He had glorified God, by exemplifying the 
charms of virtue to men. He had borne the heat 
and burden of the day — his great day of duty: and 
the evening of old age being come, the servant of God 
must now go to receive his wages. Happy Wash- 
ington ! If crowns and kingdoms could have purchas- 
ed such peace as thine, such hopes big with immor- 
tality, with what begging earnestness would crowns 
and kingdoms have been offered by the mighty con- 
querors of the earth, in their dying moments of terror 
and despair ! 

On the 14th of December, 1799, (when he wanted 
but nine weeks and two days of being sixty-eight 
years old,) he rode out to his mill, three miles distant. 
The day was raw and ramy. The following night 
lie was attacked with a violent pain and iniiamma 
tion of the throat. The lancet of one of his domesticb 
was employed, but with no advantage. Early in tlie 
morning. Dr. Craik, the friend and physician of Ins 
youth and age, was sent for. Alarmed at the least 
appearance of danger threatening a life so dear to 
him, Dr. Craik advised to' <iall in, immediately, the 
consulting assistance of his friends, the ingenious and 
learned Dr. Dick, of Alexandria, and Dr. Brown, of 
Port Tobacco. They came on the wings of speed. 
They felt the awfulness of their situation. The 
greatest of human beings was lying low. A life, oi' 

16 ^5 



182 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

all others the most revered, tlie most heloved,\vas at 
stake. And if haaian skill could have saved — if the 
sword of genius, and the buciiler of experience could 
have turned the stroke of death, Washington had 
still lived. But his hour was come. 

It appears, that from the commencement of the 
attack, he was favored with a presentiment, that he 
was now laid down to rise no more. He took, how- 
ever, the medicines that were offered him : but it was 
principally from a sense of duty. 

It has been said that a man's death is generally a 
copy of his life. It was Washington's case exactly. 
In his last illness he behaved with the firmness of a 
soldier, and the resignation of a christian. 

The inflammation in his throat was attended with 
great pain, which he bore with the fortitude that be- 
came him. He was, once or twice, heard to say that^ 
had it pleased God, he should have been glad to die 
a little easier; but that he doubted not that it was for 
his good. 

Every hour now spread a sadder gloom over the 
scene. Despair sat on the faces of the physicians; 
for they saw that their art had failed ! The strength 
of the mighty was departing from him; and death, 
with his sad harbingers, chills and paleness, was 
coming on apace. 

Mount Vernon, which had long shone the queen 
of elegant joys, was now about to suffer a sad eclipse ! 
an eclipse, which would soon be mournfully visible, 
not only through the United States, but throughout 
the whole world. 

Sons and daughters of Columbia, gather yourselves 
together around the bed of your expiring father — 
around the last bed of him to whom under God you 
and your children owe many of the best blessings of 
tills life. When .Joseph the prime minister of Egypt 
heard that his shepherd father was sick, he liastened 
up, to see liiin ; and fell on his face, and kissed him, 
and wept a long while But Joseph had never 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 183 

rectivud such services from Jacob as you have receiv- 
ed from Washington. But we call you not to weep 
for Washington. We ask you not to view those eyes, 
now sunk hollow, which formerly darted their light- 
ning flashes against your enemies — nor to feel that 
heart, now faintly laboring, which so often throbbed 
with more than mortal joys when he saw his young 
countrymen charging like lions, upon the foes of 
liberty. No ! we call you not to weep, but to rejoice. 
Washington, who so often conquered himself, is now 
about to conquer the last enemy. 

Silent and sad his physicians sat by his bedside, 
looking on him as he lay panting for breath. They 
thought on the past, and the tear swelled in their 
eyes. He marked it, and, stretching out liis hand to 
them, and shaking his head, said, " no ! don't ! 
don't !" then with a delightful smile added, " I am 
dying, gentlemen ! but, thank God, I am not afraid 
to die." 

Feehng that the hour of his departure out of this 
world was at hand, he desired that every body would 
quit the room. They all went out ; and, according 
to his wish, left him — with his God. 

There, by himself, like Moses alone on the top of 
Pisgah, he seeks the face of God. There, by him- 
self, standing as on the awful boundary that divides 
time from eternity, that separates this world from the 
next, he cannot quit the long frequented haunts of 
the one, nor launch away into the untried regions of 
the other, until (in humble imitation of the world's 
great Redeemer,) he has poured forth, into the bosom 
of his God, those strong sensations which the solem- 
nity of his situation naturally suggested. 

With what angelic fervor did he adore that 
Almighty Love, which, though inhabiting the heaven 
of heavens, deigned to wake his sleeping dust- 
framed him so fearfully in the womb — nursed him 
on a tender mother's breast — v/atched his helpless 
nfancy —guarded his heedless youth — preserved him 



184 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

from the dommion of his passions — inspired him with 
the love of virtue — led him safely np to man — and, 
from such low beginnings, advanced him to sucl? 
unparalleled usefulness and glory among men ! 
These, and ten thousand other precious gifts heaped 
on him, unasked — many of them long before he had 
the knowledge to ask — overwhelmed his soul with 
gratitude unutterable; exalted to infinite heights his 
ideas of eternal love ; and bade him without fear 
resign his departing spirit into the arms of his 
Redeemer God, wiiose mercies are over all his 
works. 

He is now about to leave the great family of man, 
in which he has so long sojourned ! The yearnings 
of his soul are over his brethren! How fervently 
does he adore that goodness, which enabled him to 
De so serviceable to them! that grace, which preserv- 
ed him from injuring them by violence or fraud ! 
How fervently does he pray, that the unsuifering 
kingdom of God may come, and that the earth may 
be filled with the richest fruits of righteousness and 
peace ! 

He is now about to leave his country ! that deai 
spot which gave him birth — that dear spot for which 
he has so long watched and prayed, so long toiled 
and fought ; and whose beloved children he has so 
often sought to gather, " even as a hen gathereth her 
chickens under her wings." He sees them now 
spread abroad like flocks in goodly pastures ; like 
favoured Israel in the land of promise. He remem- 
bers how God, by a mighty hand, and by an out- 
stretched arm, brought their fathers into this good 
land, a land flowing with milk and honey ; and 
blessed them with the blessings of heaven above, and 
the earth beneath ; with the blessings of liberty and 
of peace, of religion and of laws, above all other 
people. He sees that, through the rich mercies of 
God, they have now the precious opportunity to 
continue their country the glory of the earth, and a 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 185 

refuge for the poor, and for the persecuted of all 
lands ! The transporting sight of such a cloud ot' 
blessings, impending close over the heads of his 
countrymen, together with the distressing uncertainty 
whether they will put forth their hands and enjoy 
them, shakes the parent soul of Washington with 
feelings too strong for his dying frame r The last 
tear that he is ever to shed, now steals into his eye 
— the last groan that he is ever to heave, is about to 
issue from his faintly labouring heart. 

Feeling that the silver cord of life is loosing, and 
that his spirit is ready to quit her old companion, the 
body, he extends himself on his bed — closes his eyes 
for the last time with his own hands — folds his arms 
decently on his breast, then breathing out " Father 
of mercies, take me to thyself," — he fell asleep. 

Swift on angel's wings the brightening saint 
ascended ; while voices more than human were 
warbling through the happy regions, and hymning 
the great procession towards the gates of heaven. 
His glorious coming was seen afar olf ; and myriads 
of mighty angels hastened forth, with golden harps, 
to welcome the honoured stranger. High in front ot 
the shouting hosts, were seen the beauteous forms ot 
Franklin, Warren, Mercer, Scammel, and of him who 
fell at Quebec, with all the virtuous patriots, who, 
on the side of Columbia, toiled or bled for liberty and 
truth. But oh ! how changed from what they were, 
when, in their days of flesh, bathed in sweat and 
blood, they fell at the parent feet of their weeping 
country ! Not the homeliest infant suddenly spring- 
ing into a soul-enchanting Hebe — not dreary wintei 
suddenly brightening into spring, with all her bloom 
and fragrance, ravishing the senses, could equal such 
a glorious change. Oh ! where are now their 
wrinkles and grey hairs ? Where their ghastly 
wounds and ciotted blood ? Their forms are of the 
stature of angels — their robes like morning clouds 
streaked with gold — the stars of heaven, like crowns 

1^» 15* 



186 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

glitter on their heads — immortal youth, celestial rosy 
red, sits blooming on their cheeks, while infinite 
benignity and love beam from their eyes. Such 
were the forms of thy sons, Columbia ! such the 
brother band of thy martyred saints, that now pour- 
ed forth from heaven's wide opening gates, to meet 
thy Washington : to meet their beloved chief, who, 
in the days of his mortality, had led their embattled 
squadrons to the war. At sight of him, even these 
blessed spirits seem to feel new raptures, and to look 
more dazzlingly bright. In joyous throngs they pour 
around him — they devour him with their eyes of love 
— they embrace him in transports of tenderness un- 
utterable ; while from their roseate cheeks, tears of 
joy, such as angels weep, roll down. 

All that followed was too much for the over- 
dazzled eye of imagination. She was seen to return, 
with the quick panting bosom and looks entranced 
of a fond mother, near swooning at sudden sight of a 
dear loved son, deemed lost, but now found, and 
raised to kingly honours ! She was heard passion 
ately to exclaim, with palms and eyes lifted to 
heaven, " 0, who can count the stars of Jacob, or 
number the fourth part of the blessings of Israel ! — 
Let me die the death of Washington ! and may my 
latter end be like his !" 

Let us now return to all that remained of Wash- 
mgton on earth. He had expressly ordered in his 
will, that he should be buried in a private manner, 
and without any parade. But this was impossible ; 
for who could stay at home when it was said, "To- 
day General Washington is to be buried !" On the 
morning of the ISth, which was fixed on for his 
funeral, the people poured in by thousands to pay 
him the last respect, and, as they said, to take their 
last look. And, while they looked on him, nature 
stirred that at their hearts, which quickly brought the 
best blood into their cheeks, and rolled down the 
tears from their eyes. About two o'clock they bore 



LIFE OF WASIILVOrON, 1S7 

him to his long home, and buried him in his own 
family vault, near the banks of the great Potomac. 
And to this day, often as the ships of war pass that 
way, they waken up the thunder of their loudest 
guns, pointed to the spot, as if to tell the sleeping 
hero, that he is not forgotten in his narrow dwelling. 

The news of his death soon reached Philadelphia, 
where Congress was then in session. A question of 
importance being on the carpet that day, the house, 
as usual, was much interested. But soon as it was 
announced — " General Washington is dead" — an 
instant stop was put to all business — the tongue of 
the orator was struck dumb — and a midnight silence 
ensued, save when it was interrupted by deepest 
sighs of the members, as, with drooping foreheads 
rested on their palms, they sat, each absorbed in 
mournful cogitation. Presently, as utterly unfit for 
business, both houses adjourned ; and the members 
retired slow and sad to their lodgings, like men who 
liad suddenly heard of the death of a father. 

For several days hardly any thing was done in 
Congress; hardly any thing thought of but to talk of 
and to praise the departed Washington. In this 
patriotic work all parties joined with equal alacrity 
and earnestness. In this all were federalists, all 
were republicans. Elegant addresses were exchang- 
ed betv/een the two houses of Congress and the 
President, and all of them replete with genius and 
gratitude. 

Then, by unanimous consent, Congiess came to 
the following resolutions : 
1st. That a grand marble monument sliould be erected 

at the city of Washington, under which with per 

mission of his lady, the body of the General should 

be deposited. 
94. That there should be a funeral procession from 

congress hall to the German Lutheran church, to 

hear an oration delivered by one of the members 

of congress. 



188 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

3cl. That the members of congress should wear full 

inoiirriing during the session. 
4th. That it should be recommended to the people or 

the United States to wear crape on the left arm, as 

mourning, for thirty days. 

But, thank God, the people of the United States 
needed not the hint contained in the last resolution. 
Though they could not all very elegantly speak, yet 
their actions showed that they all very deeply felt 
what they owed to Washington. For, in every city, 
village, and hamlet, the people were so struck on 
hearing of his death, that long before they heard of 
the resolution of congress, they ran together to ease 
their troubled minds in talking and hearing talk of 
Washington, and to devise some public mode of tes- 
tifying their sorrow for his death. Every where 
throughout the continent, churches and court houses 
were hung in black, mourning was put on, proces- 
sions were made, and sermons preached, while the 
crowded houses hstened with pleasure to the praises 
of Washington, or sighed and wept when they heard 
of his toils and battles for his country. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 

Let the poor witling argue all he can 
It is religion still that makes the man. 

When the children of years to come, hearing his 
great name re-echoed from every lip, shall say to 
their fathers, " What was it that raised Washington 
to such a height of glory ?" let them be told tiiat it 

was HIS GREAT TALENTS, CONSTANTLY GUIDED AND 

GUARDED BY RELIGION. For how st all man, frail 
man, prone to inglorious ease and pleasure, ever 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOxN. 189 

ascend the arduous steps of virtue, unless animated 
by the mighty hopes of rehgion ? Or what shall st';p 
him in his swift descent to infamy and vice, if un- 
awed by that dread power, which proclaims to the 
guilty that tiieir secret crimes are seen, and shall not 
go unpunished ? Hence, the wise, in all ages, have 
pronounced, that " there never was a truly great man 
without religion." 

There have, indeed, been courageous generals, 
and cunning statesmen, without religion, but mere 
courage or cunning, however transcendent, never yet 
made a great man. 

•* Admit that this can conquer, that can cheat 
'Tis phrase absurd, to call a villain great ! 
Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, 
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave." 

No ! to be truly great, a man must have not only 
great talents, but those talents must be constantly 
exerted on great, i. e. good actions — and perseveringly 
too — for if he should turn aside to vice — farewell to 
his heroism. Hence, when Epaminondas was asked 
which was the greatest man, himself or Pelopidas ? 
he replied, "wait till we are dead:" meaning that 
the all of heroism depends on perseverance in great 
and good actions. But sensual and grovelling as 
man is, what can incline and elevate him to those 
things like religion, that divine power, to whom alone 
it belongs to present those vast and eternal goods and 
ills which best alarm our fears, enrapture our hopes, 
inflame the worthiest loves, rouse the truest avarice, 
and in short, touch every spring and passion of our 
«50uls in favour of virtue and noble actions. 

Did SHAME restrain Alcibiades from a base action 
m the presence of Socrates ? "Behold," says Religion, 
" a greater than Socrates is here !" 

Bid LOVE embolden Jacob to brave fourteen years 
of slavery for an earthly beauty ? Religion springs 
that eternal love, for whose sake good men can even 
i?lory in laborious duties. 



190 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

Did the ambition of a civic crowti animate Scipio 
to heroic deeds ? Religion holds a crown, at the sight 
of which the laurels of a Caesar droop to weeds. 

Did avarice urge Cortez through a thousand toils 
and dangers for wealth ? Religion points to those 
treasures in heaven, compared to which all diamond 
beds and mines of massy gold are but trash. 

Did good Aurelius study the happiness of his sub 
jects for this world's glory ? Religion displays that 
wor'd of glory, where those who have laboured to 
make others happy, s-hall " shine like stars for ever 
and for ever." 

Does the fear of death deter man from horrid 
crimes ? Religion adds infinite horrors to that fear — 
it warns them of death both of soul and body in hell. 

In short, what motives under heaven can restrain 
men from vices and crimes, and urge them on, full 
stretch, after individual and national happiness, like 
those of rehgion ? For lack of these motives, alas ! 
how many who once dazzled the world with the glare 
of their exploits, are now eclipsed and set to rise no 
more ! 

There was Arnold, who, in courage and military 
talents, glittered in the same firmament with Wash- 
uigton, and, for a while, his face shone like the star 
of the morning ; but alas ! for lack of Washington's 
religion, he soon fell, hke Lucifer, from a heaven of 
glory, into an abyss of never ending infamy. 

And there was general Charles Lee, too, confessed- 
ly a great wit, a great scholar, a great soldier, but, 
after all, not a great man. For, through lack of that 
magnanimous benevolence which religion inspires, 
he fell into the vile state of envy : and, on the plains 
of Monmouth, rather than fight to immortalize Wash- 
ington, he chose to retreat and disgrace himself. 

There was the gallant general Hamilton also — a 
gigantic genius — a statesman fit to rule the mightiest 
monarchy — a soldier " fit to stand by Washington and 
give command." But alas ! for lack of religion, see 



LIFF OF WASHINGTON. 191 

p.ow all was lost ! preferring the praise of man to that 
praise " which cometh from God/' and pursuing tlie 
phantom honour up to the pistol's mouth, he is cut 
off at once from life and greatness, and leaves his 
family and country to mourn his hapless fate. 

And there was the fascinating colonel Burr, a man 
born to be great — brave as Caesar, polished as Ches- 
terfield, eloquent as Cicero. Lifted by the strong 
arm of his country, he rose fast, and bade fair soon 
to fill the place where Washington had sat. But alas ! 
lacking religion, he could not wait the spontaneous 
fall of the rich honors ripening over his head, but in 
an evil hour stretched forth his hand to the forbidden 
fruit, and by that fatal act was cast out from the 
Eden of our republic, and amerced of greatness for 
ever. 

But why should I summon the Arnoids and Lees, 
the Hamiltons and Burrs of the earth, to give sad 
evidence, that no valour, no genius alone can make 
men great ? Do we not daily meet with instances, of 
youth amiable and promising as their fond parents' 
wishes, who yet, merely for lack of religion, soon 
make shipwreck of every precious hope, sacrificing 
their gold to gamblers, their health to harlots, and 
their glory to grog — making conscience their curse, 
this life a purgatory, and the next a hell ! In fact, a 
young man, though of the finest talents and educa- 
tion, without religion, is but like a gorgeous sliip 
without ballast. Highly painted, and with flowing 
canvass, she launches out on the deep ; and during a 
smooth sea and gentle breeze, she moves along state- 
ly as the pride of the ocean ; but as soon as the stormy 
Avinds descend, and the blackening billows begin to 
roll, suddenly she is overset, and disappears for ever. 
Ikit who is this coming thus gloriously along, with 
masts towering to heaven, and his sails white, loom- 
mg like the mountain of snows? Who is it but 
" Columbia's first and greatest son !" whose talents, 
ike the sails of a mighty ship, spread far and wide, 



1.^2 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

catching the gales of heaven, while his capacious 
soul, stored with the rich ballast of religion, remains 
firm and unshaken as the ponderous rock. The 
warm zephyrs of prosperity breathe meltingly upon 
him — the rough storms of adversity descend — the big 
billows of affliction dash : but nothing can move him. 
His eye is fixed on God ! the present joys of an ap- 
proving conscience, and the liope of that giory which 
fadeth not away— these comfort and support him. 

" There exists," says Washington, " in the economy 
of nature, an inseparable connexion between duty and 
advantage," — the whole iife of this great man bears 
glorious witness to the truth of this his favorite apho- 
rism. At the giddy age of fourteen, when the spirits 
of youth are all on tiptoe for freedom and adventures, 
he felt a strong desire to go to sea : but, very opposite 
to his wishes, his mother declared that she could not 
bear to part with him. His trial must have been 
very severe ; for I have been told that a midshipman's 
commission was actually in his pocket — his trunk of 
clothes on board the ship — his honour in some sort 
pledged — his young companions importunate with 
him to go — and his whole soul panting for the pro- 
mised pleasures of the voyage. But religion whisper- 
ed *' honour thy mother, and grieve not the spirit of 
her who bore thee." 

Instantly the glorious boy sacrificed inclination tc 
duty — dropt all thought of the voyage — and gave 
tears of joy to his widowed mother, in clasping to 
her bosom a dear child who could deny liimself his 
fondest wishes to make her happy. 

'Tis said, that when he saw the last boat gcing on 
board, with several of his youthful friends in it — 
when he saw the flash, and heard the report of the 
signal gun for sailing, and the ship in all her pride 
of canvass rounding off for sea, he could not bear it; 
but turned away ; and half choked with grief, went 
into the room where his mother sat. '' George, my 
dear !" said she. " have you already repented that you 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 193 

made your mother so happy just now ?" Upon this, 
falhng on lier bosom, with his arms around her neck, 
and a gush of tears, he said : " my dear mother, I 
must not deny that I am sorry. But, indeed, I feel 
that I should be much more sorry, were I on board 
the ship, and knew tliat you were unhappy.'^ 

" Well," repliedshe,embracinghimtenderly,"God, 
I hope, will reward my dear boy for this, some day 
or other." Now see here, young reader ; and learn 
that HE who prescribes our duty, is able to reward it. 
Had George left his fond mother to a broken heart, 
and gone off to sea, 'tis next to certain that he would 
never have taken that active part in the French and 
Indian war, which, by securing him the hearts of his 
countrymen, paved the way for all his future great- 
ness. 

Now for another instance of the wonderful effect 
of religion on Washington's fortune. Shortly after 
returning from the war of Cuba, Lawrence (his half 
brother) was taken with the consumption, which 
made him so excessively fretful, that his own brother 
Augustin would seldom come near him. But George, 
whose heart was early under the softening and sweet- 
ening influences of religion, felt such a tenderness for 
his poor sick brother, that he not only submitted to 
his peevishness, but seemed, from what I have been 
told, never so happy as when he was with him. He 
accompanied him to the Island of Bermuda, in quest 
of health — and, after their return to Mount Vernon, 
as often as his duty to lord Fairfax permitted, he 
would come down from the back woods to see him. 
And, while with him, he was always contriving or 
doing something to cheer and comfort his brother. 
Sometimes with his gun he would go out in quest of 
partridges and snipes, and other fine-flavored game, 
*o tempt his brother's sickly appetite, and gain him 
strength. At other times he would sit for hours niui 
read to him some entertaining book : and, when his 
cough came on, he would support his drooping head, 

)7 iS 



1&4 LIFE OF WASHIiNGTON. 

and wipe the cold dew from his forehead^ or the 
phlegm from his lips, and give him his medicine, oi 
smooth his pillow, and all with such alacrity and 
artless tenderness as proved the sweetest cordial to 
his brother's spirits. For he was often heard to say 
to the Fairfax family, into which he married, that "he 
should think nothing of his sickness, if he could but 
always have his .brother George with him." Well, 
what was the consequence ? Why, when Lawrence 
was dying, he left almost the whole of his large estate 
to George, which served as another noble step to his 
future greatness. 

For further proof of " the mseparable connexion 
between duty and advantage," let us look at Wash- 
ington's conduct through the French and Indian war. 
To a man of his uncommon military mind, and skill 
in the arts of Indian warfare, the pride and precipi- 
tance of general Braddock must have been excessive- 
ly disgusting and disheartening. But we hear nothing 
of his threatening either to leave or supplant Brad- 
dock. On the contrary, he nobly brooked his rude 
manners ; gallantly obeyed his rash orders ; and, as 
far as in him lay, endeavoured to correct their fatal 
tendencies. 

And, after the death of Braddock, and the desertion 
of Dunbar, that weak old man, governor Dinwiddle, 
added infinitely to his hardships and hazards, by 
appointing him to the defence of the frontiers, and 
yet withholding the necessary forces and supplies, 
iiut though by that means the western country was 
continually overrun by the enemy, and cruelly de- 
luge in blood — though much wearied in body by 
marchings and watchings, and worse tortured in soul, 
by the murders and desolations of the inhabitants, 
he shrinks not from duty — still seeking the smiles of 
conscience as his greatest good ; and as the sorest 
evil, dreading its frowns, he bravely maintained his 
ground, and, after three years of unequalled dangers 
and difficulties, succeeded. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 195 

Well, what was the consequence ? why it drew 
upon him, from his admiring countrymen, such an 
unbounded confidence in his principles and patriotism, 
as secured him the command of the American armies, 
in the revolutionary war ! 

And there again the connexion between " duty and 
advantage,'' was as gloriously displayed. For though 
congress was, in legal and political knowledge, an 
enlightened body, and for patriotism equal to the 
senate of Republican Rome, yet certainly in military 
matters they were no more to be compared to him, 
than those others were to Hannibal. But still, though 
they were constantly thwarting his counsels, and, in 
place of good soldiers, sending him raw militia, thus 
compelling inactivity, or insuring defeat — dragging 
out the war— dispiriting the nation — and disgracing 
him, yet we hear from him no gusts of passion — no 
dark intrigues to supplant congress — and with the 
help of an idolizing nation and army, to snatch the 
power from their hands, and make himself king. On 
the contrary, he continues to treat congress as a vir- 
tuous son his respected parents. He points out wiser 
measures, but in defect of their adoption, makes the 
best use of those they give him, at length, through 
the mighty blessing of God, established the indepen- 
dence of his country ; and then went back to his 
plough. 

Well, what was the consequence ? Why, these 
noble acts so completely filled up the measure of his 
country's love for him, as to give him that first of all 
felicities, the felicity to be regarded as the guardian 
angel of his country, and to be able, by the magic of 
his name, to scatter every cloud of danger that 
gathered over her head. 

For example, at the close of the war, when the 
army, about to be disbanded without their wages, 
were v/rought up to such a pitch of discontent and 
rage, as seriously to threaten civil war, see the won- 
derful influence which their love for him gave !uin 



196 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

over themselves ! In the height of their passion, and 
that a very natural passion too, he merely makes a 
short speecli to them, and tiie storm is laid ! the tu- 
mnU subsides ! and the soldiers, after all their hard- 
ships, consent to ground their arm.s, and return homo 
without a penny in their pockets ! ! ! 

Also, in that very alarming dispute between Ver- 
mont and Pennsylvania, when the furious parties, in 
spite of all the effortsof congress and their governors, 
had actually shouldered their guns, and were drag- 
ging on their cannon for a bloody fight — Washington 
only gave them a few lines of his advice, and they 
instantly faced about for their homes ; and laying by 
their weapons, seized their ploughs again, like dutiful 
children, on whose kindling passions a beloved father 
had shaken his hoary locks ! ! 

And, in the western counties of Pennsylvania, 
where certain blind patriots affecting to strain at the 
gnat of a small excise, but ready enough to swallow 
the infernal camel of rebellion, had kindled the flames 
of civil war, and thrown the whole nation into a 
tremor, Washington had just to send around a circu- 
lar to the people of the union, stating the infinite im- 
portance of maintaining the sacred reign of the laws, 
and instantly twenty thousand well armed volunteers 
marched among the insurgents,and, without shedding 
a drop of blood, extinguished the insurrection. 

In short, it were endless to enumerate the many 
dire insurrections and bloody wars which were 
averted from this country by Washington, and all 
through the divine force of early Religion ! for it was 
this that enabled him inflexibly to do his duty, by 
imitating God in his glorious works of wisdom and 
benevolence ; and all the rest followed as naturally 
ds light follows the sun. 

We have seen, at page 17 of this little work, with 
what pleasure the youthful Washington hung upon 
Ills father's lip, while descanting on the adorable 
wisdom and benevolent designs of God in ah parts 



J.IFE OF WASHIxNGTON. 197 

of this beautiful and harmonious creation. By such 
lessons in the book of nature, this virtuous youth 
v/as easily prepared for the far higher and surer lec- 
tures of revelation, I me^an that blessed gospel which 
contains the moral philosophy of heaven. There 
he learnt, that ^' God is love ;" — and that all he de- 
sires, Willi respect to men, is to glorify himself in 
their happiness ; and since virtue is indispensable to 
that happiness, the infinite and eternal weight of 
God's attributes must be in favour of virtue, and 
against vice ; and consequently that God will sooner 
or later gloriously reward the one, and punish the 
other. This was the creed of Washington. And 
looking on it as the only basis of human virtue and 
happiness, he very cordially embraced it himself, 
and wished for nothing so much as to see all others 
embrace it. 

I have often been informed by Colonel B. Tem- 
ple, (of King William County, Virginia,) who was 
one of his aids in the French and Indian war, that he 
has frequently known Washington, on the Sabbath, 
to read scriptures and pray with his regiment, in the 
absence of the chaplain ; and also that, on sudden and 
unexpected visits into his marquee, he has, more than 
once, found him on his knees at his devotions. 

The Reverend Mr. Lee Massey, long a rector of 
Washington's parish, and from early life his intimate, 
has frequently assured me, that " he never knew so 
constant an attendant on church as Washington. 
And his behaviour in the house of God," added my 
reverend friend, " was so deeply reverential, that it 
produced the happiest effects on my congregation ; 
and greatly assisted me in my moralizing labours. 
No company ever withheld him from church. 1 
have often been at Mount Vernon, on the Sabbath 
inornnig, when his breakfast table was filfed with 
guests. But to him they furnished no pretext for 
negleciing his God, and losnig the satisfaction of 
setting a good example. For instead of staying at 
17* IG* 



1S8 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

home, out of false complaisance to them, he used 
constantly to invite them to accompany him." 

His secretary, Judge Harrison, has frequently been 
heard to say, that " whenever the general could be 
spared from camp on the Sabbath, he never failed 
riding out to some neighbouring church, to join those 
who were publicly worshipping the great Creator.'^ 

And while he resided in Philadelphia, as president 
of the United States, his constant and cheerful atten- 
dance on divine service was such as to convince 
every reflecting mind, that he deemed no levee so 
honourable as that of his Almighty Maker ; no plea 
sures equal to those of devotion ; and no business a 
sufficient excuse for neglecting his supreme benefactor. 

In the winter of '77, while Washington, with the 
American army, lay encamped at Valley Forge, a 
certain good old friend, of the respectable family and 
name of Potts, if I mistake not, had occasion to pass 
through the woods near head quarters. Treading in 
his way along the venerable grove, suddenly he 
heard the sound of a human voice, which, as he ad- 
vanced, increased on his ear ; and at length became 
like the voice of one speaking much in earnest. As 
he approached the spot with a cautious step, whom 
should he behold, in a dark natural bower of ancient 
oaks, but the commander in chief of the American 
armies on his knees at prayer ! Motionless with sur- 
prise, friend Potts continued on the place till the 
general, having ended his devotions, arose; and, with 
a countenance of angelic serenity, retired to head- 
quarters. Friend Potts then went home, and on en- 
termg his parlour called out to his wife," Sarah ! my 
" dear Sarah ! all's well ! all's well ! George Wash- 
ington will yet prevail !" 

"" What's the matter, Isaac ?" replied she, " thee 
seems moved." 

" Well, if I seem moved, 'tis no more than what J 
really am. I have this day seen what I nevei 
expected. Thee knows that I always thought that 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 19S 

the sword and the gospel were utterly inconsistent • 
and that no man could be a soldier and a christian 
at the same time. But George Washington has this 
day convinced me of my mistake." 

He then related what he had seen, and concluded 
with this prophetical remark — " If George Washing- 
ton be not a man of God, I am greatly deceived — and 
still more shall I be deceived, if God do not, through 
him, work out a great salvation for America." 

When General Washington was told that the 
British troops at Lexington, on the memorable 19th 
of April, 1775, had fired on and killed several of the 
Americans, he replied," I grieve for the death of my 
countrymen ; but rejoice that the British are still so 
determined to keep God on our side," alluding to 
that noble sentiment which he has since so happily 
expressed ; viz. " The smiles of Heaven can never 
be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal 
rules of order and right, which Heaven itself has or- 
dained." 

When called by his country in 1775, to lead her 
free-born sons against the arms of Britain, what 
charming modesty, what noble self-distrust, what 
pious confidence in Heaven, appeared in all his an- 
swers. " My diffidence in my own abilities," says he, 
was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude of 
our cause, and the patronage of Heaven.' 

And when called to the presidency by the unani- 
mous voice of the nation, thanking him for his great 
services past, with anticipations of equally great to 
come, his answer deserves approbation. 

" When I contemplate the interposition of Provi- 
dence, as it was visibly manifested in guiding us 
through the revolution — in preparing us for the re- 
ception of a general government — and in conciliat- 
ing the good will of the people of America towards 
one another after its adoption; 1 feel myself oppress- 
ed and almost overwhelmed with a sense of the 
divine munificence. 1 feel that nothing is due to my 



900 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

personal agency in all those complicated and wcn- 
derful events, except what can simply be attributed 
to the exertions of an honest zeal for the good of m} 
country. " 

And when he presented himself for the first time 
before that august body, the Congress of the United 
States, April oOth, 1789 — when he saw before him 
the pride of Columbia m her chosen sons, assembled 
to consult how best to strengthen the chain of love 
between the states — to preserve friendship and har- 
mony with foreign powers — to secure the blessings 
of civil and religious liberty — and to build up our 
young republic a great and liappy people among the 
nations of the earth — never patriot entered on such 
important business with fau'er hopes, whether we 
consider the unanimity and confidence of the citizens, 
or his own abilities and virtues, and those of his 
fellow-counsellors. 

But all this would not do. Nothing short of the 
divine friendship could satisfy Washington. Feeling 
the magnitude, difficulty, and danger of managing 
such an assemblage of communities and interests ; 
dreading the machinations of bad men, and well 
knowing the insufficiency of all second causes, even 
the best, he piously reminds congress of the wisdom 
of imploring the benediction of the great first cause, 
without which he knew that his beloved country 
would never prosper. 

" It would," says he, " be peculiarly improper to 
omit, in this first official act, my fervent supplications 
to that Almighty Being who rules over the universe; 
who presides in the councils of nations ; and whose 
providential aids can supply every human defect, that 
his benediction may consecrate to the liberties and 
happiness of the people of the Uniled States, a 
government instituted by themselves for these essen- 
tial purposes ; and may enable every instrument 
employed in its administration to execute with 
success the functions allotted to his charge. In 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 201 

tendering this homage to the great Author of every 
pubUc and private good, I assure myself that it ex- 
presses your sentiments not less than my own ; nor 
those of my fellow citizens at large less than either. 
No people can be bound to acknowledge and adore 
the invisible hand which conducts the affairs of men, 
more than the people of the United States. Every 
step, by which they have advanced to the character 
of an independent nation, seems to have been 
distinguished by some token of providential agency. 
These reflections, arising out of the present crisis, 
have forced themselves too strongly on my mind to 
be suppressed. You will join with me, I trust, in 
thinking, that there are none, under the influence of 
which the proceedings of a new and free government 
can more auspiciously commence." 

And after having come near to the close of this, 
the most sensible and virtuous speech ever made to 
a sensible and virtuous representation of a free 
people, he adds — " I shall take my present leave ; 
but not without resorting once more to the benign 
Parent of the human race in humble supplication, 
that, since he has been pleased to favour the Ameri- 
can people with opportunities for deliberating with 
perfect tranquility, and dispositions for deciding v/ith 
unparalleled unanimity, on a form of government 
for the security of their union, and the advancement 
of their happiness ; so his divine blessings may 
be equally conspicuous in the enlarged views, 
the temperate consultations, and the wise measures, 
on which the success of this government must de- 
pend." 

In this constant disposition to look for national 
happiness only in national morals, flowing from the 
sublime afl"ections and blessed hopes of Religion, 
Washington egreed with those great legislators of 
nations, Moses, Lycurgus, and Numa. " I ask not 
gold for Spartans," said Lycurgus. "Virtue is better 
than all go 1." The event showed his wisdom— 



802 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

The Spartans were invincible so long as they remain- 
ed virtuous — even 500 years. 

" I ask not wealth for Israel," cried Moses. << But 
that they were wise ! — that they did but fear God 
and keep his comandments ! The Lord himself 
would be their sun and shield." The event proved 
Moses a true prophet. For while they were reli- 
gious they were unconquerable. " United as bro- 
thers, swift as eagles, stronger than lions, one could 
chase a thousand ; and two put ten thousand to 
flight." 

" Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to 
the prosperity of a nation," says Washington, 
" Religion is the indispensable support. Volumes 
could not trace all its connexions with private and 
public happiness. Let it simply be asked, where is 
the security for property, for reputation, for Ufe itself, 
if there be no fear of God on the minds of those who 
give their oaths in courts of justice." 

But some will tell us, that human laws are sufli- 
cient for the purpose! 

Human laws ! — human nonsense ! For how often, 
even where the cries and screams of the wretched 
called aloud for lightning speeded vengeance, have 
we not seen the sword of human law loiter in its 
coward scabbard, afraid of angry royalty.? Did not 
that vile queen Jezebel, having a mind to compli- 
ment her husband with a vineyard belonging to poor 
Naboth, suborn a couple of villians to take a false 
oath against him ; and then cause him to be dragged 
out with his little motherless, crying babes, and 
barbarously stoned to death. 

Great God! what bloody tragedies have been 
acted on the poor ones of the earth, by kings and 
great men, who were above the laws, and had no 
sense of Religion to keep them in awe ! And if men 
be not above the laws, yet what horrid crimes! what 
ruinous robberies ! what wide-wasting havoc! what 
cruel murders may they not commit in secret, if they 



LIFE OF WASHINGTOiN. 203 

be noi withheld by the sacred arm ofreHgion ! "In 
vain, therefore,'^ says Washington, " would that 
man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should do 
any thing to discountenance Religion and morality, 
those great pillars of human happiness, those firmest 
props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere 
politician, equally with the pious man, ought to 
respect and cherish them." 

But others have said, and with a serious face too, 
that a sense of honour is sufficient to preserve men 
from base actions ! blasphemy to sense ! Do we 
not daily hear of men of honour, by dice and cards, 
draining their fellow citizens of the last cent, reduc- 
ing them to beggary, or driving them to a pistol ? 
Do we not daily hear of men of honour corrupting 
their neighbours wives and daughters, and then 
murdering the husbands and brothers in duels ? 
Bind such selfish, such inhuman beings, by a sense 
of honour! ! why not bind roaring lions with cob- 
webs ? '^ No," exclaims Washington, " whatever a 
sense of honour may do on men of refined education, 
and on minds of a peculiar structure, reason and 
experience both forbid us to expect that national 
morality can prevail in exclusion of Religious 
principles." 

And truly Washington had abundant reason, from 
his own happy experience, to recommend Religion 
so heartily to others. 

For besides all those inestimable favours which he 
received from her at the hands of her celestial daugh- 
ters, the Virtues; she threw over him her own magic 
mantle of Character. And it was this that immortal- 
ized Washington. By inspiring his countrymen 
with the profoundest veneration for him as the 
best of men, it naturally smoothed his way to 
supreme command ; so that when War, that monster 
of satan, came on roaring against America, with all 
his death's heads and garments rolled in blood, the 
natioB unanimously placed Washington at the head 



204 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

of their armies, from a natural persuasion that so 
good a man must be the pecuhar favourite of 
Heaven, and the fastest friend of his country. How 
far this precious instinct in favour of goodness was 
correct, or how far Washington's conduct was 
honourable to Rehgion and glorious to himself and 
country, bright ages to come, and happy millions yet 
unborn, will, we confidently hope, declare to the 
most distant posterity. 



CHAPTER XIV. 
WASHINGTON'S CHARACTER CONTINUED. 

HIS BENEVOLENCE. 

This only can the bliss bestow 
Immortal souls should prove ; 
From one short word all pleasures flow, 
That blessed word is — Love. 

If ever man rejoiced in the divme administration, 
and cordially endeavoured to imitate it by doing 
good, George Washington was that man. Taught 
by religion that " God is love,*' he wisely concluded 
those the most happy who love the most ; and, taught 
by experience that it is love alone that gives a parti- 
(ipation and interest in others, capacitating us to 
lejoice with those who rejoice, and to weep with 
those who weep, he early studied that benevolence 
which rendered him so singularly the delight of 
mankind. 

The marquis De Chastellux, who visited him in 
camp, tells us that "he was astonished and dehghted 
to see the great American hving among his officers 
and men as a father among his children, who at once 
revered aiid loved him with a fihal tenderness." 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 205 

Brissot, another famous French traveller, assures 
us, that " throughout the continent every body spoke 
of Washington as of a father." 

The dearest and best of all appellations, "The 
father of his country," was the neutral fruit of that 
benevolence v/hich he so carefully cultivated through 
life. A singular instance of which we meet with in 
1754, and the 22nd year of his age. 

He was stationed at Alexandria with his regiment, 
the only one in the colony, and of which he was co- 
lonel. There happened at this time to be an election 
in Alexandria for members of the assembly : and the 
contest ran high between Colonel George Fairfax, 
and Mr. Elzey. Washington was the warm friend 
of Fairfax: and a Mr. Payne headed the friends of 
Elzey. A dispute happening to take place ir^. the 
court-house yard, Washington, a thing very uncom- 
mon with him, became warm; and, which was still 
more uncommon, said something that offended 
Payne ; whereupon the little gentleman, who, though 
but a cub in size, was the old lion in heart, raised his 
sturdy hickory, and, at a single blow, brought our 
hero to the ground. Several of Washington's offi- 
cers being present, whipped out their cold irons in an 
instant ; and it was believed that there would have 
been murder off-hand. To make bad worse, his 
regiment, hearing how he had been treated, bolted 
out from their barracks, with every man his weapon 
in his hand, threatening dreadful vengeance on those 
who had dared to knock down their beloved colonel. 
Happily for Mr. Paine and his party, Washington 
recovered, time enough to go out and meet his en- 
raged soldiers : and, after thanking them for this ex- 
pression of their love, and assuring them that he 
was not hurt in the least, he begged them, as they 
loved him or their duty, to return peaceably to their 
barracks. As for himself, he went to his room, ge- 
nerously chastising his imprudence, which had thus 
struck up a spark that had like to have thrown the 
IS 17 



206 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

whole town into a flame. Finding on mature leflec- 
tion, that he had been the aggressor, lie resolved to 
make Mr. Payne honourable reparation, by asking 
his pardon on the morrow ! No sooner had he made 
this noble resolution, than, recovering that delicious 
gaiety which accompanies good purposes in a virtu- 
ous mind, he went to a ball that night, and behaved 
as pleasantly as though nothing had happened ! Glo- 
rious proof, that great souls, like great ships, are not 
affected by those little puffs which would overset fee- 
ble minds with passion, or sink them with spleen ! 

The next day he went to a tavern, and wrote a 
polite note to Mr. Payne, whom he requested to 
meet him. Mr. Payne took it for a challenge, and 
repaired to the tavern, not without expecting to see 
a pair of pistols produced. But what was his sur- 
prise on entering the chamber, to see a decanter of 
wine and glasses on the table ! Washington arose, 
and in a very friendly manner met him ; and gave 
him his hand. " Mr. Payne," said he, " to err is 
nature : to rectify error is glory. I find I was wrong 
yesterday : but I wish to be right to-day. You have 
had some satisfaction : and if you think that sufficient, 
here's my hand ; let us be friends." 

Admirable youth ! Noble speech ! No wonder, 
since it charms us so, that it had such an effect on 
Mr. Payne, who from that moment became the most 
ardent admirer and friend of Washington, and ready 
at any time, for his sake, to charge up to a battery 
of two and forty pounders. 

What a lesson for our young countrymen ! Had 
Washington been one of the race of little men, how 
sadly different would have been his conduct on this 
occasion ! Instead of going that night to the ball, and 
acting the lively agreeable friend, he would, like an 
angry viper that had been trod on, have retired to 
his chamber. There he would have found no such 
entertainment as Washington had at this ball ; no 
sprightly music, no delicious wines, no sweetly 



LIFE OF \\ASHINaTON. 207 

smiling friends. On the contrary, all the tortures of 
a soul brooding over its indignities, until reflection 
had whipped it up into pangs of rage unutterable^ 
while all the demons of hell, with blood-stained 
torches pointing at his bleeding honour, cried out 
" revenge ! revenge ! revenge !" There in his cham- 
ber, he would have passed the gloomy night prepar- 
ing his pistols, moulding his bullets, or with furious 
looks driving them through the body of his enemy 
chalked on the wall. The next morning would have 
seen him on the field, and in language lately heard 
in this state, calling out to his hated antagonist. You 
have injured me, sir, beyond reconciliation : and by 

I'll kill you if I can. While his antagonist, in a 

style equally musical and christian, would have 

rejoined, Kill, and be ! Pop go the pistols — 

down tumbles one of the combatants; while the 
murderer, with knocking knees and looks of Cain, 
flies from the avenger of blood ! The murdered man 
is carried to his house, a ghastly, bloody corpse. 
Merciful God ! what a scene ensues ! some are stu- 
pified with horror ! others sink lifeless to the floor ! 
His tender sisters, wild shrieking with despair, throw 
themselves on their dead brother and kiss his ice-cold 
lips ; while his aged parents, crushed under unutter- 
able woe, go down in their snowy locks broken- 
hearted to the grave. 

Thus bloody and miserable might have been the 
end of Washington or of Payne, had Washington 
been one of those poor deluded young men, who are 
determined to be great ; and so be brought forward 
in newspapers, in spite of God or devil. But Wash- 
ington was not born to exemplify those horrid trage- 
dies, which cowards create in society by pusillani- 
mously giving way to their bad passions. No — he 
was born to teach his countrymen what sweet peace 
and harmony might for ever smile in the habitations 
of men, if all had but the courage, like himself, to 
obey the sacred voice of justice and humanity. By 



208 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

firmly obeying these, he preserved his hands unstained 
by the blood of a fellow man; and his soul uuhar- 
rowed by the cruel tooth of never-dying remorse. By 
firmly obeying these, he preserved a life, which, 
crowned with deeds of justice and benevolence, has 
brought more glory to God, more good to man, and 
more honor to liimself, than any life ever spent since 
the race of man began. 

Sons of Columbia ! would you know what is true 
courage? see it defined, see it exemplified in this act 
of your young but great countryman. Never man 
possessed a more undaunted courage, than Washing- 
ton. But in him this noble quality was the lifeguard 
of his reason, not the assassin ; a ready servant to 
obey her commands, not a bully to insult them; a 
champion to defend his neighbour's rights, not a 
tyrant to invade them. Transported by sudden pas- 
sion, to which all are liable, he offended Mr. Payne, 
who resented it rather too roughly, by knocking him 
down on the spot. Washington had it in his power 
to have taken ample revenge : and cowards, who 
have no command over their passions, would have 
done it. But duty forbade liim : and he had the 
courage to obey. Reason whispered the folly of 
harbouring black passions in his soul, poisoning his 
peace. He instantly banished them; and went to a 
ball, to drink sweet streams of friendship from the 
eyes of happy friends. Again reason whispered him, 
that having been the aggressor, he ought to ask 
Payne's pardon, and compromise the difference with 
him. In this also he had the courage to obey her 
sacred voice. 

In what history, ancient or modern, sacred or pro- 
fane, can you find, in so young a man, only twenty- 
two, such an instance of that true heroic valour 
which combats malignant passions — conquers un 
reasonable self — rejects the hell of hatred, and invites 
the heaven of love into our own bosoms, and into 
those of our brethren with whom we may have 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 2Q^ 

quarrelled ? Joseph forgiving his brethren in the land 
of Egypt ; David sparing that inveterate seeker of 
his life, Saul ; Sir Walter Raleigh pardoning the 
young man who spit in his face ; afford, it is true, 
charming specimens of the sublime and beautiful in 
action : certainly, such men are worthies of the 
world, and brightest ornaments of human nature. 
But yet none of them have gone beyond Washington 
in the affair of Payi>e. 

A few years after this, Payne had a cause tried in 
Fairfax court. Washington happened on that day 
to be in the house. The lawyer on the other side, 
finding he was going fast to leeward, thought he 
would luff up with a whole broadside at Payne's 
character : and, after raking him fore and aft with 
abuse, he artfully bore away under the lee of the 
jury's prejudices, which he endeavoured to inflame 
against him. " Yes, please your worships," con- 
tinued he, " as a proof that this Payne is a most 
turbulent fellow, and capable of all I tell you, be 
pleased to remember, gentlemen of the jury, tha.t 
this is the very man, who some time ago treated 
our beloved colonel Washmgton so barbarously. 
Yes, this is the wretch, who dared, in this very 
court-house yard, to lift up his impious hand against 
that greatest and best of men, and knocked him down 
as tliough he had been a bullock of the stalls. 

This, roared in a thundering tone, and with a tre- 
mendous stamp on the floor, made Payne look very 
dejected ; for he saw the countenance of the court 
beginning to blacken on him. But Washington rose 
immediately, and thus addressed the bench : 

" As to Mr. Payne's character, may it please your 
worships," said he, " we all have the satisfaction to 
know that it is perfectly unexceptionable : and with 
respect to the little difference which formerly hap- 
pened between that gentleman and myself, it was 
instantly made up : and we have lived on tlie best 
terms ever since • moreover, T wish all my acquaint- 
18* 17* 



210 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

ance to know, that I entirely acquit Mr. Payne of 
blame in that affair, and take it ail on myself as the 
aggressor." 

Payne used often to relate another anecdote of 
Washington, which reflects equal honour on the 
goodness of his heart. 

Immediately after the war," said he, " when the 
conquering hero was returning in peace to his home, 
with the laurels of victory green and flourishing on 
his head, I felt a great desire to see him, and so set 
out for Mount Vernon. As I drew near the house, 
I began to experience a rising fear, lest he should 
call to mind the blow I had given him in former 
days. However, animating myself, I pushed on. 
Washington met me at the door with a smiling wel- 
come, and presently led me into an adjoining room, 
where Mrs. Washington sat. " Here, my dear," 
said he, prsenting me to his lady, " here is the little 
man you have so often heard me talk of; and who, 
on a difference between us one day, had the resolu- 
tion, to knock me down, big as I am. I know you 
will honour him as he deserves ; for I assure you he 
has the heart of a true Virginian." " He said this," 
continued Mr. Payne, " with an air which convinced 
me that his long familiarity with war had not robbed 
him of a single spark of the goodness and nobleness of 
his heart. And Mrs. Washington looked at him, I 
thought, with a something in her eyes, which showed 
that he appeared to her greater and lovelier than 
ever." 

A good tree, saith the divine teacher, bringeth forth 
good fruit. No wonder then that we meet with so 
many and such delicious fruits of charity in Wash- 
mgton, whose soul was so rich in benevolence. 

In consequence of his wealth and large landed 

possessions, he had visits innumerable from the poor. 

Knowing the great value of time and of good tempers 

LO them, he could not bear that tliey should lose 

ither, by long waiting and shuffling, and blowing 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 211 

their fingers at his door. He had a room set apan 
for the reception of such poor persons as had businesy 
with him: and the porter had orders to conduct them 
iiito it, and to inform him immediately. And so 
aifectionately attentive was he to them, that if he 
was in company with the greatest characters on the 
continent, when his servant informed him that a poor 
man wished to speak to him, he would instantly beg 
them to excuse him for a moment, and go and wait 
on him. 

Washington's conduct showed that he disliked 
another practice, too common among some great men, 
who, not having the power to say, yes, nor the heart 
to say no, to a poor man, are fain to put him off with 
a " come again ; come again j" and thus trot him 
backwards and forwards, wasting his time, wearing 
out his patience and shoes, and after all give him the 
mortification of a disappointment. 

Washington could not be guilty of such cruel 
kindness. If he could not oblige a poor applicant, 
lie would candidly tell him so at once : but then the 
goodness of his heart painted his regret so sensibly 
on his countenance, that even his refusals made him 
friends. 

A poor Irishman, wanting a small farm, and hear- 
ing that Washington had one to rent, waited on him. 
Washington told him that he was sincerely sorry that 
he could not assist him ; for he had just disposed of 
it. The poor man took his leave, but not without 
returning him a thousand thanks ! Ah, do you thank 
me so heartily for a refusal ! "' Yes, upon my shoul, 
now plase your excellency's honour, and I do thank 
you a thousand times. For many a great man would 
have kept me waiting like a black negro. But yoiu' 
excellency's honour has told me straight off hand 
that you are sorry and God bless you for it, that you 
can't help me — and so your honour has done my 
business for me, in no time, and less." 

The Potomac abounds with the finest herrings \n 



212 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

the world, which, when salted, furnish not only to 
the wealthy a charming relish for their tea and coffee, 
but also to the poor a delicious substitute for bacon. 
But, fond as they are of this small boned bacon, as 
they call it, many of them have not the means to 
procure it. Washington's heart felt for these poor 
people ; and provided a remedy. He ordered a seine 
and a batteau to be kept on one of the best fishing 
shores, on purpose for the poor. If the batteau were 
lost, or the seine spoilt, which was often the case, he 
had them replaced with new ones immediately. And 
if the poor who came for fish were too weak handed 
to haul the seine themselves, they needed but to ap- 
ply to the overseer, who had orders from Washing- 
ton to send hands to help them. Thus all the poor 
had it in their power to come down in the season, 
and catch the finest fish for themselves and their 
families. In what silver floods were ever yet caught 
the herrings, which could have given to VVashington 
what he tasted, on seeing the poor driving away 
from his shores, with carts laden with delicious fish, 
and carrying home, whooping and singing to their 
smiling wives and children, the rich prize, a whole 
year's plenty. 

In all his charities, he discovered great judgment 
and care in selecting proper objects. Character was 
the main chance. Mount Vernon had no charms for 
lazy, drunken, worthless beggars. Persons of that 
description knew very well that they must take their 
application elsewhere. He never failed to remind 
them of the great crime of robbing the public of their 
services, and also the exceeding cruelty and injustice 
of snapping up from the really indigent, what little 
charity bread was stirring. But if the character 
were good — if the poor petitioner were a sober, 
honest, and industrious person, whom Providence 
had by sickness or losses reduced to want — he found 
a brother in Washington. It is incredible what 
quantities of wool, corn, bacon, flour, clothes, <fec. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 213 

were annually distributed to the poor, from the 
almost exhaustiess heap, which the blessings of Hea- 
ven bestowed on this, its industrious and faithful 
steward. 

" I had orders," said Mr. Peake,a sensible, honest 
manager of one of Washington's plantations, to fill a 
corn-house every year, for the sole use of the poor 
in my neighbourhood ! to whom it was a most sea- 
sonable and precious relief; saving numbers of poor 
women and children from miserable famine, and 
blessing them with a cheerful plenteousness of bread." 

Mr. Lund Washington, long a manager of his 
Mount Vernon estate, had similar orders. One year 
when corn was so dear (a dollar per bushel) that 
numbers of the poor were on the point of starving, 
Mr. L. Washington, by order of the general, not 
only gave away all that could be spared from the 
granaries, but bought at that dear rate, several hun- 
dred bushels for them ! 

Anecdote of Washington. — The town of Alexan- 
dria, which now flourishes like a green bay tree, on 
the waters of the Potomac, was, 50 years ago, but a 
small village. But though small, it was lovely. Sit- 
uated on the fine plain which banks the western 
margin of the river, and with snow white domes 
glistening through the trees that shook their green 
heads over the silver flood, it formed a view highly 
romantic and beautiful. Hence the name of the 
place at first was Bellhaven. But, with all the beau- 
ties to the eye, Bellhaven had no charms for the pal- 
ate. Not that the neighbourhood of Bellhaven was 
a desert ; on the contrary, it was, in many places, a 
garden spot abounding with luxuries. But its inhab- 
itants, though wealtriy, were not wise. By the 
successful culture of tobacco they had made money. 
4nd having filled their coach-houses with gilt car- 
riages, and their dining rooms with gilt glasses, they 
began to look down on the poorer sort, and to talk 
about families. Of course it would never do for such 



5S14 IJFE OF WASHINGTON. 

great people to rim market carts ! ! Hence the poor 
Bellhavenites, though embosomed in plenty were 
often in danger of gnawing their nails ; and unless 
they could cater a lamb from some goodnatured 
peasant, or a leash of chickens from the Sunday 
negroes, were obUged to sit down with long faces to 
a half-graced dinner of salt meat and Johnny cake. 
This was the order of the day, A. D. ^59, when 
Washington, just married to the wealthy young Mrs. 
Custis, had settled at Mount Vernon, nine miles 
below Bellhaven. The unpleasant situation of the 
families at that place soon reached his ear. To a 
man of his character, with too much spirit to follow 
a bad example, when he had the power to set a goo . 
one, and too much wit to look for happiness any 
where but in his own bosom, it could not long be 
questionable what part he had to act. A market 
cart was instantly constructed ; and regularly, three 
times a week, sent off to Bellhaven, filled with nice 
roasters, kidney covered lamb and veal, green geese, 
fat ducks, chickens by the basket, fresh butter, new 
laid eggs, vegetables, and fruit of all sorts. Country 
gentlemen, dining with their friends in town, very 
soon marked the welcome change of diet. " Bless 
us all !" exclaimed they, " what's the meaning of 
this ? you invited us to family fare, and here you've 
given us a lord mayor's feast." " Yes," replied the 
others, " thank God for sending Colonel Washington 
into our neighbourhood." Thus, it was discovered, 
to the extreme mortification of some of the little great 
ones, that Colonel Washington should ever have run 
i market cart ! ! But the better sort, who generally, 
thank God, have sense enough to be led right, pro- 
vided they can get a leader, soon fell into the track : 
and market carts were soon seen travelling in abun- 
dance to town with every delicacy of the animal and 
vegetable republics. 

Thus the hungry wall which pride had raised 
against Bellhaven was happily demolished. A flood 



J.IFb OF WASHlNGTOiN. 215 

tide of blessings rolled in from the neighbouring 
country. The hearts of the merchants felt a fresh 
pulse of love for their brothers, the farmers : and 
even the little children, with cheeks red as the apples 
they seized, were taught to lisp the praises of God. 
And all this, reader, through the active benevolence 
of one man. 

The following anecdote was related to me by his 
excellency Governor Johnson (Maryland,) one of the 
few surviving heroes of '76. 

'• You seem, sir," said he addressing himself to me, 
" very fond of collecting anecdotes of Gen. Washing- 
ton. Well, I'll tell you one, to which you may 
attach the most entire faith ; for I have heard it a 
dozen times and oftener, from the lips of a very 
valuable man and a magistrate, in Conostoga, a Mr. 
Conrad Hogmyer." " Just before the revolutionary 
war," said Mr. Hogmyer, " I took a trip for my 
^health's sake to the Sweet Springs of Virginia, where 
I found a world of people collected ; some, like me, 
looking for health, others for pleasure. In conse- 
quence of the crowd, I was at first rather hard run 
for lodgings ; but at length was lucky enough to get 
a mattrass in the hut of a very honest baker of my 
acquaintance, who often visited the springs for the 
benefit of his oven. Being the only man of the trade 
on the turf, and well skilled in the science of dough, 
ne met with no small encouragement : and it was 
really a subject of surprize to see the heaps of English 
loaves, Indian pones, French bricks, cakes, and 
crackers, which lay piled on his counter every 
morning. I often amused myself in marking the 
various airs and manners of the different waiters, 
who, in gay liveries and shining faces, came every 
morning, rattling down their silver, and tripping 
away with their bread by the basket. Among those 
gay looking sons and daughters of Africa, 1 saw 
every now and then, a poor Lazarite, with sallow 
cheek and hollow eye, slowly creeping to the door, 
and at a nod from the baker, eagerly seize a fine loaf 



2lfy J.1FE OF WASHINGTON. 

and bear it off without depositing a cent. Surely, 
thought I to myself, this baker must be the best man, 
or the greatest fool in the world. But fearing that 
this latter cap best fitted his pericranium, I one 
morning could not help breaking my mind to him, foi 
crediting iiis bread to such very unpromising dealers. 
<^ Stophel," for that was his name, " you seem," said 
I, *^ to sell a world of bread here every day ; but, 
notwithstanding that, I fear you don't gain much by 
it." 

" No ! 'squire ? What makes you think so?" 

" You credit too much, Stophel." 
-—o^ot I indeed, sir, not I. I don't credit a penny." 

"Ay ! how do you make that out, Stophel, don't 
I see the poor people everyday carrying away your 
bread, and yet paying you nothing?" 

" Pshaw, no matter for that, 'squire. They'll pay 
me all in a lump at last." 

«'At last ! At last I Oh ho, at the last day, I suppose 
you mean, Stophel; when you have the conscience 
to expect that God Almighty will stand paymaster, 
and wipe off all your old scores for you, at a dash." 

" Oh no ! 'squire, we poor bakers can't give such 
'ong credit ! but I'll tell you how we work the 
matter. The good man Colonel George Washing- 
ton is here. Every season as soon as he comes, he 
calls and says to me, ' Stophel, you seem to have a 
great deal of company ; and some, I fear, who don't 
come here for pleasure, and yet, you know, they 
can't do without eating. Though pale and sickly, 
they must have bread. But it will never do to make 
them pay for it. Poor creatures ! they seem already 
low spirited enough through sickness and poverty. 
Their spirits must not be sunk lower by taking from 
them every day what little money they have pinch- 
ed from tlieir poor families at home. I'll tell you 
what's to be done, Stophel. You must give each of 
them a good hot loaf every morning; and charge it 
to me. When I am going awav, I'll pay you ai) ^ 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 217 

And believe me, 'squire, he has often, at the end ol 
the seavson, paid me as much as 80 dollars, and that 
too for poor creatures who did not know the hand 
that fed them ; for I had strict orders from him not 
to mention a syllable of it to anybody." 

But though so kind to the bodies, Washington was 
still more kind and costly in his charities to the minds 
of the poor. Sensible that a republican government, 
that is, a government of the people, can never long 
subsist where the minds of the people are not 
enlightened, he earnestly recommended it to the 
citizens of the United States, to promote, as an object 
of primary importance, institutions for the general 
diffusion of knowledge. In this, as indeed in all other 
cases where any thing great or good was to be done, 
Washington led the way. 

He established a charity school in Alexandria, 
and endowed it with a donation of four thousand 
dollars. The interest was regularly paid and ex- 
pended on the education of fifteen boys. My young 
friend, the reverend Mr. Wiley, who, for talents, 
taste, and classical erudition, has few superiors in 
America, was educated by Washington. 

In 17S5, the assembly of his native state, Virginia, 
"desirous to embrace," as they said, "every suitable 
occasion of testifying their sense of the unexampled 
merits of George Washington, Esq.," presented him 
with fifty shares in the Potomac, and one hundred 
shares in the James River Navigation Company , 
making, in the whole, the important sum of ten 
thousand pounds sterling ! 

Of this public act, they requested the governor to 
transmit Washington a copy. In answer he address- 
ed a letter to the governor, in which, " I take the 
liberty," says he, "of returning to the general assem- 
bly, through your hands, the profound and grateful 
acknowledgments inspired by so signal a mark of 
their beneficent intentions towards me." 

He goes on to beg that they would excuse his 
19 18 



218 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

determined resolution not to accept a farthing of il 
for his own use — " But," continued he, " if it shou.d 
please the general assembly to permit me to turn the 
destination of the fund vested in me, from my private 
emolument, to objects of a public nature, it shall be 
my study, in selecting, to prove the sincerity of m^ 
gratitude for the honour conferred on me, by prefer- 
ring such as may appear most subservient to the 
enlightened and patriotic view of the legislature." 

They were cheerfully submitted to his disposal ; 
and, according to promise, he appropriated them to 
works of the greatest utility: viz: his shares in James 
River canal, to a college in Rockbridge county, near 
the waters of James River ; and his Potomac shares 
to a national university, to be erected in the federal 
district, on the great Potomac. 

How noble and disinterested were his wishes for 
the good of his country ! As if incapable of being 
satisfied with all that he had done for her while 
living, he endeavoured, by tbunding those noble 
institutions for the diffusion of knowledge and virtue, 
to make himself her benefactor when he should cease 
to live in this sublunary world. 

Since the idea is perfectly correct, that the great 
(Governor of the world must look with peculiar 
benignity on those of his children who most nearly 
resemble him in benevolence, may we not indulge 
the pleasing hope, that these colleges, founded by 
siich a hand, shall prove the nurseries of the bright- 
fcol genius and virtue; and that from their sacred halls 
will proceed in endless succession, the mighty Wasli- 
ingtons, and Jeffersons, the Franldins and Madisons 
of future times ! that Columbia may live before 
God ! and that the bright days of her prosperity may 
never have an end ! 

VVashington's behaviour to the generous Fayette 
ought never to be forgotten. 

When that glorious young nobleman heard that 
Lord North had passed against America !he decree 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 219 

of slavery; and that the American farmers witti 
their rusty firelocks and pitchforks, in front of theii 
shrieking wives and children, were inch by inch 
disputing the soil against a hireling soldiery, the tears 
gushed from his eyes. He tore himself from the arms 
of the loveliest, fondest of wives; flew to his sove- 
reign for permission to fight; turned into powder and 
arms every livre that he could raise ; and, in a swift 
sailing frigate rushing through the waves to America, 
presented himself before Washington. Washington, 
received him as his son, and gave him command, 
Under the eye of that hero he fought and conquered. 
Having aided to fix the independence of strangers, 
he hastened back to France, to hberate his own 
countrymen from the curses of monarchy; and to 
give them, like America, the blessings of a republic. 
A pupil of the temperate and virtuous Washington, 
he soon offended the hot headed demagogues of 
France. Banished from his native country, he was 
presently thrown, by royal jealousy, into a foreign 
prison. Most of us here in America, on hearing of 
his misfortunes, felt the kindly touch of sympathy. 
But alas ! like those good people m the parable, we 
were so taken up with "buying land, trying oxen, 
or marrying wives," that we forgot our noble friend. 
But Washington did not forget him. His thoughts 
were often with him in his gloomy cell. He sent him 
a present of a thousand guineas — and in a letter to 
the Emperor of Germany, with equal delicacy and 
feeling, solicited his discharge, and permission to 
come to America. The letter concluded with these 
remarkable words : — " As it is a maxini with me 
never to ask what, under similar circumstances, I 
would not grant, your majesty will do me the justice 
to believe, that this request appears to me to corres- 
pond with those great principles of magnanimity 
and wisdom which form the basis of sound policy 
and durable glory." 

This letter produced, in part, the desired effect 



2^20 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

For immediately after the receipt of it, the marquig 
experienced a great increase of attention ; and in a 
short time he was hberated. Such was the respect 
paid to our American farmer, by one of the greatest 
monarchs in Europe. 

In 1795, the marquis's son made his escape from 
France, and arrived at Boston. Soon as Washington 
heard of it, he sent his parental respects to the youth, 
and informed him, that, though, from moti/es of 
tenderness to liis mother, who wis in the po -ver of 
the directory, he could not be seen pubhcly U* notice 
him, yet he begged to be considered by hin. as his 
father and protector — advised hmi to enteras abtudent 
in the university near Boston, and to draw on him 
for whatever moneys he should want. 

Congress, on hearing that a son of the noble mar 
quis was in America, felt a deep interest in the youth, 
and ordered an immediate inquiry into his situation, 
intending generous things for him out of the national 
treasury. But finding that on this, as on all othei 
occasions, Washington had done honour to the Ame 
rican name, they rejoiced exceedingly, and let the 
matter drop. 



CHAPTER XV. 
WASHINGTON'S CHARACTER CONCLUDED. 

HIS INDUSTRY. 

Awake, my boy ! and let the rising sun 
Blush to see his vigilance outdone ; 
In cheerful works consume the fleeting day, 
Toil thy pleasure, and business all thy play. 

But of all the virtues that adorned the hfe of this 
great man, there is none more worthy of our imitation 
than his admirable industry. It is to this virtue in 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. S21 

her Washington, that America stands indebted for 
services past calculation : and it is from this virtue, 
that Washington him.self snatched a wreath of glory- 
that will never fade away. that the good genius of 
America may prevail ! that the example of this, her 
favourite son, may be but universally adopted! Soon 
shall our land be free from all those sloth-begotten 
demons which now haunt and torment us. For 
whence do all our miseries proceed, but from lack 
of industry ! In a land like this, which heaven has 
blessed above all lands — a land abounding with the 
fish and flesh pots of Egypt, and flowing with the 
choicest milk and honey of Canaan — a land where the 
poorest Lazarus may get his fifty cents a day for the 
commonest labour — and buy the daintiest bread of 
corn flour for a cent a pound ! why is any man 
hungry, or thirsty, or naked, or in prison ? why but 
through his unpardonable sloth ? 

But alas ! what would it avail, though the blest 
shade of Washington were to descend from his native 
skies, and with an angel's voice, recommend industry 
as the handmaid of health, wealth, innocence, and 
happiness to man. A notion, from the land of lies, 
has taken too deep root among some, that " labour is 
a low-lived thing, fit for none but poor people and 
slaves ! and that dress and pleasure are the only ac- 
complishments for a gentleman ! But does it become 
a gentleman to saunter about, living on the charity 
of his relations — to suffer himself to be dunned by 
creditors, and, like a hunted wolf, to fly from the face 
of sheriffs and constables? Is it like a gentleman to 
take a generous woman from her parents, and reduce 
her to beggary — to see even her bed sold from under 
her, and herself and weeping infants turned out of 
doors ? It is hke a gentleman to reduce one's children 
to rags, and to drive them like birds of heaven, to 
hedges and highways, to pick berries, filling their 
pale bloated bodies with disease ? Or is it like a gen- 
tleman to bring up one's sons in sloth, pleasure, and 

19* ' IS* 



222 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 

dress, as young noblemen, and then leave them witk- 
out estates, profession, or trades, to turn gaiublers, 
sharpers, or horse thieves ? " From such gentlemen, 
oh save my country, Heaven !" was Washington's 
perpetual prayer, the emphatical prayerof his life and 
great example ! In his ear, wisdom was lieard inces- 
santly caUing aloud, " He is the real gentleman, who 
cheerfully contributes his every exertion to accomplish 
heaven's favourite designs, the beauty, order and hap- 
piness of human life ; whose industry appears in a 
plentiful house and smiling wife ; in the decent ap- 
parel of his children, and in their good educatian 
and virtuous manners ; who is not afraid to see any 
man on earth ; but meets his creditors with a smiling 
countenance, and with the welcome music of gold 
and silver in his hand ; who exerts an honest indus- 
try for wealth, that he may become as a water-course 
in a thirsty land, a source of refreshment to a thous- 
and poor." 

This was the life, this the example set by Wash- 
ington. His whole inheritance was but a small tract 
of poor land in Stafford county, and a few negroes. 
This appearing utterly insufficient for those purposes 
of usefulness, with the charms of which his mind 
seems to have been early smitten, he resolved to make 
up the deficiency by dint of industry and economy.- 
For these virtues, how excellent ! how rare in youth! 
Washington was admirably distinguished when but 
a boy. At a time when many young men have no 
higher ambition than a fine coat and a frolic, " often 
have I seen him (says the reverend Mr. Le Massey) 
riding about the country with his surveying instru- 
ments at his saddle," enjoying the double satisfaction 
of obhging his fellow citizens by surveying their 
..ands, and of making money, not meanly to hoard, 
but generously to lend to any worthy object that 
asked it. This early industry v/as one of the first 
steps to Washmgton's preferment. It attracted on 
liim the notice and admiration of his numerous ac- 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON 223 

tiuaintance, and, which was still more in his favour, 
it gave such uncommon strength to his constitution, 
such vigour to his mind, such a spirit for adventure, 
that he was ready for any glorious enterprize, no 
matter how difficult or dangerous. Witness the ex- 
pedition from Williamsburg through the Indian coun- 
try to the Ohio, which at the green age of twenty-one, 
he undertook for Governor Dinwiddle. Indeed this 
uncommon attachment to industry and useful life, 
made such an impression on the public mind in his 
favour, that by the time he was one and twenty he 
was appointed major and adjutant-general of the 
V^irginia forces in the Northern Neck ! 

There was at this time a young fellow in Williams- 
burg by the name of Jack B , who possessed 

considerable vivacity, great good-nature, and several 
accomplishments of the bon companion sort. He 
could tell a good story, sing agreeably, scrape a little 
on the fiddle, and cut as many capers to the tune of 
old Roger, as any buck a-going ; and being, besides, 
a young fellow of fortune, and a son of an intimate 
acquaintance, Jack was a great favourite of the gov- 
ernor, and much at his house. But all this could not 
save poor Jack from the twinges of envy. For, on 
hearing every body talk in praiseof Major Washing- 
ton, he could not help saying one day at the govern- 
or's table, " I wonder what makes the people so 
wrapped up in major Washington : I think, begging 
your excellency's pardon, I had as good a right to a 
major's commission." "Ah, Jack," replied the gov- 
ernor, " when we want diversion, we send for you. 
But when we want a man of business, vve send for 
Major Washington." 

Never was the great Alfred more anxious to im- 
prove his time than our Washington : and it appears 
that, like Alfred, he divided his time into four grand 
departments, sleep, devotion, recreation, and business. 
On the hours of buisness, whether in his own or his 
jouniry's service, he would allow nothing to infringe. 



S24 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

While in camp, no company, however illustrious — 
no pleasures, however elegant — no conversation, how- 
ever agreeable — could prevai. on him to neglect his 
business. The moment that his hour of duty was 
ccme, he would fill his glass, and with a smile, call 
out his friends around the social board, " well, gen- 
tlemen, here is bon repos," and immediately with- 
draw to business. Bon repos is a French cant for 
good night. Washington drank it as a signal to break 
up ; for the moment the company had swallowed the 
general's bon repos, it was hats and off. General 
Wayne, who, happily for America, understood fight- 
ing better than French, had some how or other taken 
up a notion, than this same bon repos, to whom 
Washington made such conscience of giving his last 
bumper, must have been some great warrior of the 
times of old. Having, by some extraordinary luck, 
gotten hold of two or three dozen of good old wine, 
he invited a parcel of hearty fellow-officers to dine . 
with him, and help him to break them to the health 
of America. Soon as tlie cloth was removed, and 
the bottles on the table, the hero of Stony Point cried 
out, "come my brave fellows, fill your glass; here's 
old bon repos for ever." The officers v/ere thunder- 
struck: but having tured off their wine, rose up, one 
and all to go. " Hey day ! what's all this, gentlemen ? 
what's all this ?" " Why," replied they, did not you 
drink bon repos, or good night ?" 

" What ! is that the meaning of it ?" " Yes," " Oh ! 
then, damn old bon repos, and take your seats again : 
^or, by the life of Washington, you shan't stir a peg 
till we have started every drop of our wine." 

While he was employed in choosing a place on 
the Potomac, for the federal city, his industry was 
no less remarkable. Knowing how little is generally 
done before breakfast, he made it a rule to rise so 
early as to have breakfast over, and be on horseback 
by the time the sun was up. Let the rising genera- 
tion remember that he was then sixty years of age ' 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 225 

On his farm, his husbandry of time was equally 
exemplary. He contemplated a great objecr : an 
object worthy of Washmgton. He aimed at teaching 
nis countrymen the art of enriching their lands, cind 
consequently of rendering the condition of man and 
beast more plentiful and happy. He had seen thou- 
sands of acres, which, by constant cultivation, had 
lost the power of covering their nakedness even with 
a suit of humble sedge. He had seen thousands of 
wretched cattle, which, driven out houseless and hay- 
less into the cold wintry rains, presented such trem- 
bling spectacles of starvation and misery, as were 
enough to start the tear into Pity's eye. To remedy 
these cruel evils (which certainly they are, for He 
who lent us these animals never meant that we should 
make their lives a curse to them, much less to our 
children, hardened by such daily sights of misery,) 
Washington generously set himself to make artificial 
meadows; to cultivate fields of clover ; and to raise 
the most nutricious vegetables, such as cabbage, tur- 
nips, scarcity and potatoes ; of which last article he 
planted in one year 700 bushels! To render these 
vast supplies of food the more beneficial to his cattle, 
ne built houses of shelter for them all. " He showed 
me a barn," says Brissot, "upwards of 100 feet 
square, and of brick, designed as a store-house for his 
corn, potatoes, turnips, &c. around which he had 
constructed stables ofan amazing length, for his cattle." 
Every one of them had a stall well littered with 
leaves or straw ; and a rack and manger well fur- 
nished with hay and provender. 

The pleasure and profits arising from such an ai- 
rangement are incalculable. How delicious must it 
have been to a man of Washington's feelings, to 
reflect that, even in the very worst weather, every 
creature, on his extensive farms, was warmly and 
comfortably provided ; to have seen his numerous 
flocks and herds, gamboling around him through 
excess of joy, and fullness of fat; to have beheld his 



226 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

steps washed with butter, and his dairies floated with 
river:-; of milk ; to have seen his once naked fields and 
frog-croaking swamps, now, by clearance or manurey 
converted into meadows, standing thick with heavy- 
crops of timothy and sweet scented clover ; while his 
farm-yards were piled with such quantities of litter 
and manure as afforded a constantly increasing fer- 
tility to his lands. 

Here was an employment worthy of Washington ;' 
an employment, which we might indeed have ex- 
pected from him, who, through life, had studied the 
best interests of his countrymen ; who, first as a sol- 
dier, had defended them from slavery, and crowned 
them with liberty ; then, as a statesman, had pre- 
served them from war, and secured to them the bles- 
sings of peace ; and now as the last, but not the least 
services of his life, was teaching them the great arts 
of improving their farms, multiplying their cattle, 
enriching their lands, and thus pouring a flood of 
plenty and of comfort through the joyful habitations 
of man and beast. 

Full of the greatly benevolent idea, no wonder that 
ne was so frugal of his time. Though the most hos- 
pitable of all the hospitable Virginians, he would not 
suffer the society of his dearest friends to take him 
from his business. Long accustomed to find his 
happiness in doing his duty, he had attained to such 
a royal arch degree of virtue, as to be restless and 
uneasy while his duty was neglected. Hence, of all 
that ever lived, Washington was the most rigidly 
observant of those hours of business which were 
necessary to the successful management of his vast 
concerns. " Gentlemen, (he would often say to. liis 
friends who visited him) 1 must beg leave of absence 
a few hours in the forenoon: here is plenty of amuse- 
ments, books, music, &c. Consider yourselves at 
home, and be happy." He came in about twelve 
o'clock ; and then, as if animated by the conscious- 
ness of having done his duty, and that all was going 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 227 

rigbv, would give himself up to his friends and to 
decent mirth the rest of the day. 

But bis mornings were always his own. Long 
before the sun peeped into the chambers of the slug- 
gard, Washington was on horseback, and out among 
his overseers and servants: and neither himself nor 
any about him were allowed to eat the bread of idle- 
ness. The happy effects of such industry were ob- 
vious. Well manured and tilled, his lands yielded a 
grateful return : and it was at once pleasing and as- 
tonishing to behold the immense quantities of fine hay, 
of fat cattle, and choice grain, that v/ere raised on his 
farms ; of wheat 7000 bushels in one year, and 5000 
bushels of Indian corn ! His servants fared plentiful- 
ly. His cattle never had the hollow horn. And the 
surplus of his prudence, sold to the merchants, furnish- 
ed bread to the needy, and a revenue to himself more 
than sufficient to defray his vast expenditures, and to 
spread a table of true Virginian hospitality for those 
crowds of friends and foreigners whom affection or 
curiosity led to visit him. 

Oh ! divine Industry ! queen mother of all our 
virtues and of all our blessings ! what is there of 
great or of good in this wide world that springs not 
from thy royal bounty ? And thou, ! infernal Sloth! 
fruitful fountain of all our crimes and and curses ! 
what is there of mean or of miserable in the lot of 
man that flows not from thy hellish malice ? 

What was it that betrayed David, otherwise the 
best of kings, into the worst of crimes ? Idleness. 
Sauntering about idly on the terrace of his palace, he 
beheld the naked beauties of the distant Bathsheba. 
Lust, adultery, and murder were the consequences. 

What was it that brought on a ten year's war be- 
tween the Greeks and Trojans? Idleness. Young 
Paris, the coxcomb of Troy, having nothing to do, 
strolls over to the court of Menelaus (a Greek prince) 
whose beauteous wife, Helen, the black-eyed que-en 
of love, he corrupts and carries off to Troy. A 



228 LIFE OF WASHINGTOiN. 

bloody war ensues. Paris is slain. His father, bro- 
thers, and myriads of wretched subjects are slaugh- 
tered : and Troy, the finest city of Asia, is reduced 
to ashes ! 

What was it that liurried poor Mr. A d to that 

horrid act of suicide, which froze the blood of all who 
heard it ? Idleness. His young wife, with all that 
we could conceive of sweetness, tenderness, and truth 
in an angel's form ; and his three beauteous babes 
were the three graces in smiling infancy. But oIi, 
wretched man ! having nothing to do ! he strolled to 
a tavern, and to a card table, where he lost his all ! 
five thousand pounds, lately settled on him by a fond 
father ! He awakes to horrors unutterable ! What 
will become of his ruined wife ! his beggared babes ? 
Believing his torments little inferior to those of the 
damned, he seizes the fatal pistol ; drives the scorch- 
ing bullet through his brains ; and flies a shrieking 
ghost to join the mournful throng ! 

sad sight ! see yon tall young man, in powder 
and ruffles, standing before his judges, tremblmg like 
an aspen, and pale and blank as the picture of guilt; 
while the crowded court house, every countenance 
filled with pity or contempt, is fixed upon him. Alas I 
what could have brought him to this? Idleness. His 
fathe" happening to possess 500 acres of poor land, 
and a few negroes, thought it would be an eternal 
disgrace to his family to bring up his son, (though he 
had many,) to be a mechanic. No : he must be a 
gentleman !! Grown to man's estate, and having no 
profession, trade, or habit of industry to support this 
pleasant life, he took to horse-stealing. If we had 
leisure to wait, we snould presently see this unhappy 
youth, on receiving sentence of death, bursting into 
sobs and cries sufficient to make us wish he had 
never been born. But let us leave these horrible 
scenes of shame, misery, and death, into which idle- 
ness never fails to bring poor deluded youth, and 
joyfully return to our beloved Washington, and 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 22& 

to his health, wealth, and glory-giving goddess, 
Industry. 

What is it that braces the nerves, purifies the 
blood, and hands down the flame of life, bright and 
sparkling, to old age ? What, but rosy checked 
Industry. See Washington so invigorated by con- 
stant exercise, that, though hereditarily subject to the 
gout, of which all his family died, he entirely escaped 
it ; and, even at the age of 66, continued straight and 
active as a voung grenadier, and ready once more at 
his country's call, to lead her eager warriors to the 
field. 

What is it that preserves the morals of young men 
unsoiled, and secures the blessings of unblemished 
character and unbroken health ? What, but snow- 
robed industry ? See Washington under the guard- 
ianship of industry, walking the slippery paths of 
youth, safe and uncorrupted, though born in a 
country whose fertility and climate furnished both 
the means and invitation to vice. Early smitten 
with the love of glory ; early engaged in the noble 
pursuit of knowledge, of independence, and of use- 
fulness ; he had no eyes to see bud examples, nor 
ensnarmg objects ; no ears to hear horrid oaths, nor 
obscene language; no leisure for impure passions nor 
crmiinal amours. Hence he enjoyed that purity of 
soul, which is rightly called its sunshine ; and which 
impressed a dignity on his character, and gave him a 
beauty and loveliness in the eyes of men, that contri- 
buted more to his rise in the world, than young peo- 
ple can readily conceive. 

And what is it that raises a young man from 
poverty to wealth, from obscurity to never-dying 
fame ? What, but industry ? See Washington, 
born of humble parents, and in humble circumstan- 
ces — born in a narrow nook and obscure corner of 
the British plantations ! yet lo ! What great things 
wonder-working industry can bring out of this un- 
promising Nazareth. While but a youth, he mani- 
20 ' IS 



230 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

fested such a nob.e contempt of sloth, such a manly 
spirit to be always learning or doing something use- 
ful or clever, that he was the praise of all who knew 
him. And, though but 1.5, so high were the hopes 
entertained of him, he was appointed a surveyor ! 
arduous tasic ! But his industry was a full match 
for it. Such was the alertness with which he carried 
on his survey ; such the neatness and accuracy of his 
plats and drafts, that he met with universal applause. 
Full-fed and flushed with so much fare of praise, a 
fare of all others the most toothsome and wholesome 
to generous minds, our young eagle began to flap his 
wings of honest ambition, and to pant for nobler 
darings. A fair occasion was soon offered — a dan- 
gerous expedition through the Indian wilds, as 
already mentioned, to the French M?^melukes on the 
Ohio. Nobody else having ambition for such an 
adventure, Washington's offer was p;ladly accepted. 
And he executed that hazardous and important trust 
with such diligence and propriety, that he received 
the thanks of the governor and council. Honours 
came down on him now in showers. He was ap- 
pointed major and adjutant-general of the Virginia 
forces ; then a colonel; afterwards a member of the 
house of burgesses; next, generahssimo of the armies 
of the United States ; and, finally, chief magistrate 
of the Union. All these floods of prosperity and 
honour, which in thousands would have but served 
to bloat with lust or pride, with him served but the 
more to rouse his industry, and to enlarge his use- 
fulness ; for such was his economy of time, and so 
admirable his method and regularity of business, that 
he always kept a-head of it.* No letters of conse- 

* He was taken ill on Friday. An intimate friend asked him if he 
wished to have any thing done on the arrangement of his temporal 
affairs. He shook his head, and replied, " No, I thank you ; for my 
books are all posted to Tuesday I" Thac industry and method must 
be truly astonishing, which in the management of possessions so vast 
and complicated as his, kept every thing so harmoniously adjusted, aa 
to be ready, at a moment's warning, tu leave the world for ever with- 
out a wish to aUer a tittle. 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 23! 

quence were unanswered. No reasonable expecta 
tions were disappointed. No necessary information 
was ever neglected. Neither the congress, nor the 
governors of the several states, nor the officers of his 
army, nor the British generals, nor even the over- 
seers and stewards on his farms, were uninformed 
what he expected from them. Nobody concerned 
with him was idle or fretted for want of knowin'g 
what to do. 

admirable man ! great preceptor to his 
country ! no wonder every body honoured him Avho 
honoured every body ; for the poorest beggar that 
wrote to him on business, was sure to receive a 
speedy and decisive answer. No wonder every body 
loved him, who, by his unwearied attention to the 
public good, manifested the tenderest love for every 
body. No wonder that his country delighted to 
honour him, who shewed such a sense of her honours 
that he would not allow even a leaf of them to 
wither ; but so watered them all with the refreshing 
streams of industry, that they continued to bloom 
with ever-increasing glory on his head. 

Since the day that God created man on the earth, 
none ever displayed the power of industry more sig- 
nally than did George Washington. Had he, as 
prince of Wales, or as dauphin of France rendered 
such great services, or attained such immortal 
honours, it would not have seemed so marvellous in 
our eyes. But that a poor young man, with neither 
king, lords, nor commons to back him — with no 
princes, nor strumpets o[ princes, to curry favour for 
him — with no gold but his virtue, no silver but his 
industry, should, with this old-fashioned coin, have 
stolen away the hearts of all the American Israel, and 
from a sheep-cot have ascended the throne of his 
country's affections, and acquired a name above the 
mighty ones of the earlh ! this is marvellous indeed! 
It is surely the noblest panegyric ever yet paid to 
that great virtue, mdustry, which has "length of days 



252 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

in her tight hand; and in her left hand riches and 
honoul-s.'' 

Young reader! go thy way; think of Washington; 
and HOPE. Though humble thy birth, low thy for- 
tune, and few thy friends, still think of Washington ; 
and HOPE. Like him, honour thy God ; and delight 
in glorious toil. Then, hke him, " thou shalt stand 
before kings. Thou shalt not stand b:jfore ccmmon 
men.'^ 



CHAPTER XVI. 

WASHINGTON'S CHARACTER CONTINUED. 

HIS PATRIOTISM. 

'« O eternal King of men and angels, elevate our minds! each low 
and partial passion thence dispel ! till this great truth in every 
heart be known, that none but those who aid the public cause, can 
shield their country or themselves from chains." 

Leojvibas. 

In this grand republican virtue, we can with 
pleasure compare our Washington with the greatest 
worthies of ancient or modern times. 

The patriotism of the Roman emperor, Alexan- 
der, has been celebrated through all ages, because he 
was never known to give any place through favour 
or friendship ; but employed those only whom he be- 
lieved to be the best quaUfied to serve his country. 
In our Washington we meet this great and honest 
emperor again. For in choosing men to serve his 
country, Washington knew no recommendation but 
merit — had no favourite but worth. No relations, 
however near — no friends, however dear — stood any 
chance for places under him, provided he knew men 
better quahfied. Respecting such men, he never 
troubled himself to inquire, whether they werfi 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 233 

foreigners or natives, federalists or democrats. Some 
of the young officers of his native state, on hearing 
that colonel Washington was made commander in 
CHIEF, were prodigiously pleased, expecting to be 
made field officers immediately. But in this they 
were so utterly mistaken, that some of them have 
foolishly baid, "it was a misfortune to be a Virginian." 
Indeed, his great soul was so truly republican, that, 
during the whole of his administration, he was never 
known to advance an individual of his own name 
and family. 

The British, with good reason, admire and extol 
admiral Blake as one of the bravest and best of 
patriots ; because, though he disliked Oliver Crom- 
well, yet he fought gallantly under him ; and, with 
his dying breath, exhorted his men, " to love their 
country as a common mother ; and, no matter what 
hands the government might fall into, to fight for her 
like good children." 

Of the same noble spirit was Washington. Often 
was he called to obey men greatly his inferiors, and 
to execute orders which he entirely disapproved. 
But he was never known to falter. Sensible of the 
infinite importance of union and order to the good of 
his country, he ever yielded a prompt obedience to 
her delegated will. And, not content with setting us, 
through life, so fair an example, he leaves us at his 
death, this blessed advice: "Your government claims 
your utmost confidence and support. Respect for 
its AUTHORITY, compUancc with its laws, acquiescence 
in its measures, are duties enjoined by the funda 
mental maxims of true liberty. The basis of our 
political system is the right of the people to make and 
alter their constitutions of government. But the 
constitution, which at any time exists, until changed 
by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, 

is SACREDLY OBLIGATORY UPON ALL." 

History has lavished its choicest praises on those 
ma .unanimous patriots, who, in their wars for liberty 
20* 19* 



•234 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

and Iheir country, have cheerfully sacrificed their 
own wealth to defeat the common enemy. 

Equal to this was the spirit of Washington. For, 
during the war, while he was with the army to the 
north, a British frigate came up the Potomac, to 
Mount Vernon ; and threatened to lay the place in 
ashes, if provisions were not instantly sent on board 
To save that venerable mansion, the manager sent 
aboard the requisite supplies. On hearing the mat- 
ter, Washington wrote his manager the following 
letter : 

" Sir — It gives me extreme concern to hear that 
you furnished the enemy with refreshments. It 
would have been a less painful circumstance to me, 
to have heard, that in consequence of your non-com- 
pliance with their request, they had laid my planta- 
tion in ruins. 

George Washington." 

But, among all his splendid acts of patriotism, there 
is none which, with so little noise, may do us more 
good, than his " Legacy, or Farewell to the People 
of the United States." In this admirable bequest, 
like a true teacher sent from God, he dwells chiefly 
on our union and brotherly love. This, the first birth 
of true religion, appears to him as the one thing 
needful, the spring of political hfe, and bond of per- 
fection. 

On this topic he employs all the energies of his 
mind : and, in words worthy to be written in gold, 
emphatically beseeches his countrymen to guard 
with holiest care " the unity of the government," as 
the '* main pillar and palladium of their liberty, their 
independence, and every thing most dear to them on 
earth." 

Little did that illustrious patriot suspect, that, in 
so short a time after his death, the awful idea of dis- 
union should have becotne I'amiliarto the public eye 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 235 

—so familiar as to have worn o(l' half its horrors from 
the minds of many of our dehided citizens ! Disunion ! 
Merciful God ! what good man can think of it but 
as of treason, and as a very Pandora's box, replete 
with every curse that can give up our dear country 
to desolation and havoc ! 

This disorganizmg scheme has been three times 
brought forward, by what Washington terms " cun 
ning, ambitious, and unprincipled men," making use 
of a thousand arts to shut the eyes of the citizens on 
that yawning gulph to which they were so wickedly 
misleading them. And each time, Lucifer-like, these 
ministers of darkness have clothed themselves over 
as " angels of light" with the captivating plea of 
public good. — " The disadvantages of the union ! the 
disadvantages of the union ?" is their constant cry. 
Now admitting it to be true, that this so much hated 
union has its disadvantages, (and where is there any 
human institution, even the noblest, that is free from 
them ?) yet is it not the parent of blessings so many 
and great, that no good man, as Washington says, 
" can think of them without gratitude and rejoicing?" 
and is it not equally true, that these disadvantages of 
the union would not, in fifty years, equal the ruinous 
consequence of a disunion, in probably half a year. 

At present,* the plea for this most horrible mea- 
sure, is the mischievous effects of the embargo. — 
Well, grant that it is mischievous, highly mischievous 
and painful, for such we all feel it, yet how inexpres- 
sibly absurd it must be, to put the loss of trade, for 
a year or two, in competition with the peace and 
happiness, the independence and sovereignty of our 
country? Would not this be an act a thousand time:s 
more mad and wicked than that of the wretched 
Esau, who, to remove the cravings of a momentary 
appetite, sold his birth-right for a mess of pottage ! 

At this day, through the great mercies of God, we 

* This was written Anno Domini, 1809 



236 LIFE W WASHINGTON. 

have cause to consider ourselves the happiest nation 
on eaith. — List ! oh list ! 

For many years past the greater part of Christen- 
dom has been involved in all the horrors of the most 
bloody and destructive wars. Their kings and queens 
have been rudely hurled from their thrones : and the 
"honourable men and the princes," verifying the 
mournful language of ancient prophecy, have been 
seen embracing the dung-hill, or flying from their 
distracted countries : while the mass of the people, 
unable to fly, have been crushed to the earth with 
tythes and taxes — with impressments and conscrip- 
tions — with forced loans and arbitrary requisitions— 
with martial law, administered by military judges, 
with the bayonet at the breast of the citizens ! On 
the other hand, during all these horrid convulsions 
and miseries of other nations, we, thoughtless, thank- 
less we, have enjoyed all the blessings of peace, 
plenty, and security. Our persons have been free 
from the violence of impressments and conscriptions; 
and our lives and property perfectly safe under the 
nightly staves of a few old watchmen ! while othei 
nations have been over-run with devouring armies, 
and doomed to see their houses in flames, and the 
garments of their children rolled in blood, we, like 
favoured Israel, have been sitting under our vine and 
fig-tree, none daring to make us afraid. We have 
been advancing in riches and strength, with a rapidity 
unequalled in the history of man. We have been 
progressing in arts, manufactures, and commerce, to 
an extent and success that has astonished the most 
enlightened Europeans: and even at this moment, 
while suffering under the privations of the embargo, 
we are feasted with every necessary, and enjoying 
many of the elegancies of life. 

And yet, with so many substantial blessings in oui 
hands, with so much heaven-sent manna in our mouths, 
like ungrateful Israel, we are mourning for lack of 
European luxuries (as they did for the Egyptiaii 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 237 

flesh-pots,) luxuries which we once enjoyed, but are 
now most unjustly deprived of by our brethren, the 
nations of Europe, who are stronger than we. And 
as if that were not a sufficient evil — as if it were not 
grievous enough to suffer such a hindrance in trade^ 
agriculture, and business of all kinds — we are now 
threatened with one, in comparison of which our pre- 
sent privations are insignificant — one which of all 
others, Washington most dreaded, and was most 
startled at, I mean a separation of the states, and 
consequently, civil war. 

This dreadful consequence is as obvious as it is 
dreadful. Yes, it is most obvious, that the separation 
of the states can never take place without civil war. 
For if the states, disposed to separate, were unani- 
mous in the attempt, the general government could 
not look idly on their apostacy, but must resist it ! 
and to that end must call out the force of the rest of 
the union to crush it. And here, merciful God! 
what scenes are rising before the eyes of horror-struck 
imagination? A whole nation suddenly filled with 
terror ; " men's hearts failing them for fear, and for 
looking to those things that are coming on the land'^ 
— the drums and instruments of war beginning to 
sound — the warriors' guns and swords preparing ; 
not for cheerful defence of liberty and country, which 
would make war glorious ; but for the gloomy and 
infernal work of civil discord. Sisters, mute with 
grief, and looking through swelling tears, on their 
brothers, as they gird on the hated swords — wives, 
shaking with strong fits, and, with their little child- 
ren, filling their houses with lamentations for hus- 
bands and fathers tearing themselves away for the 
dismal war, whence they are to return no more ! 
while aged parents, at parting with their sons, 
express the deep grief only in groans ! or, wringing 
their withered hands, with tearful eyes to heaven, 
implore a speedy grave to put their griefs to rest. 

But all this is but the beginning of sorrows. Foi 



238 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

who can paint the scenes which ensue when the two 
armies meet? when they meet, not in the Hberal spirit 
of stranger troops, who, fighting m.erely for honour 
and pay, are ready, in the first moment of victory, 
to sheath their swords, and to treat the vanquished 
with humanity and politeness ; but in all the bitter- 
ness and exterminating spirit of a family quarrel, 
where men, after numberless acts of the blackest 
slander and of rancorous hate, having done every 
thing to destroy each other's souls, are nov/ come 
together to destroy each other's bodies. Hence, the 
moment the ill-fated parties meet, their fierce re- 
vengeful passions take fire: scarce can they wait the 
trumpet's dreadful signal. Then, rushing on each 
other, more like demons than men, they thrust and 
stab, and shout and yell, in the horrid work of mu- 
tual slaughter. 

And when one of the wretched parties, nearly 
consumed by the sword, and unable to resist any 
longer, cry for quarters, they cry in vain. 

The furious conquerors feel not the touch of pity ; 
but, regardless of uplifted hands and prayers, continue 
their cruel blows till all is hushed in death. 

This is the horrid fate of all civil wars. The 
streets of ancient Rome ; the fields of Culloden ; the 
plains of modern France ; and even the piney woods 
of Georgia and South Carolina, strewed with man- 
gled carcases, all give awful proof, that when breth- 
ren turn their swords into each other's bovvrels, war 
degenerates into murder, and battles into butcheries. 

Nor can even the grave set hmits to their rage ; 
but, like lions, turning from the mangled dead, they 
fly for new game to the living. All those, who by 
their wealth had most injured, or by their writings 
had most inflamed them, are sure to be the victims 
of their vengeance. Such persons — as was the case 
m the last war, between the whigs and tories in tne 
southern states — have been dragged out of their 
houses, and, amidst the screams of their wives and 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON, 130 

chidren, liave been hung up on the trees, or cut to 
pieces with swords with the most savage joy ; while 
tlieir furniture has been plundered, their houses 
burnt, their cattle and slaves carried off, and their 
widows and children driven out, crying, and without 
bread, into the barren woods. 

Nor does this tragedy (of a free government mad- 
ly divided and destroying itself) terminate here. 
Even this, as Solomon says, is but their *« way to hell 
and their going down by the chambers of death," 
(political slavery.) For when nations thus wickedly 
abuse their liberty, God will take it away. When 
they will not live in peace, out of virtuous choice, 
they shall be compelled by brutal force. 

And since they would not let God reign over them 
\\ li a golden sceptre of reason and equal laws, he 
will set a master over them with a scourge of scor- 
pions and an iron rod: some proud tyrant, who, look- 
ing on our country but as his estate, and ourselves 
as his cattle, shall waste our v/ealth on the pomps of 
his court, or the salaries of his officers; destroy our 
sons in his ambitious wars ; and beggar us with ex- 
actions, as long as his ministers can invent taxes, or 
we, by hard labour, can raise money to pay them. 

" Then," in the words of Washington, " Avhat a 
triumph for the advocates of despotism, to find that 
we are incapable of governing ourselves ; and that 
systems founded on equal liberty are ideal and falla- 
cious !" Then, how will the proud sons of despotism 
shake themselves with laughter on their thrones; 
and hell itself, responsive to their joy, clank her con- 
gratulating chains, that heaven is defeated, and the 
misery of man is sealed. 

But, ye favoured countrymen of Washmgton ! 
your republic is not yet lost ; there is still hope. The 
arm that wrought your political salvation, is still 
stretched out to save ; then hear his voice and live ! 
Hear the voice of the Divine Founder of yourrepub 
lie : <* liittle children, love one another." Hear his 



240 LIFE OF WASHINrxlON. 

voice from the lips of his servant Washington 
'^ Above all things hold dear your national union. 
Accustom yourselves to estimate its immense, its in- 
finite value to your individual and national happiness 
Look on it as the palladium of 3^our tranquillity at 
home ; of your peace abroad ; of your safety ; of 
your prosperity ; and even of that very liberty which 
you so highly prize !" To this you are bound by 
every tie of gratitude and love to God or man. 1st. 
As to God, no people more than you can be bound 
to adore that invisible hand which rules the affairs 
of men. 'Tvvas he who fought your battles, and 
against such fearful odds established your indepen- 
dence ; and afterwards disposed your hearts for the 
reception of a general and equal government. And 
for what did God perform all these miracles for you 
but that he might glorify himself in your protection 
and happiness? And will you now rise up with joy 
to co-operate with God in the glorious work of beau- 
tifying, with the fruits of righteousness, this goodly 
land, which he has so honoured, that he may place 
his own great name therein ? 

And remember, moreover, my countrymen, that 
you are now the favoured actors on a most conspicu- 
ous theatre ; a theatre which seems peculiarly 
designated of Heaven for the display of human great- 
ness and felicity. Far from the furious passions and 
politics of Europe, you are placed here by yourselves, 
the sole proprietors of a vast region, embracing all 
the soils and climates of the earth, and abounding 
with all the conveniences of life. And Heaven has 
crowned all its blessings by giving you a freer 
government and a fairer opportunity for political 
happiness than any other nation was ever favoured 
with. In this view, citizens of the United States, yau 
are certainly responsible for the highest trust ever 
confided to any people. The eyes of long oppressed 
humanity are now looking up to you as to her last 
hope ; the whole world are anxious spectators ol 



LIFE OF WASHliNGTON. 24 

your trial ; and willi your behaviour at this crisis, 
not only your own, but the destiny ot unborn millions 
IS involved. If, now, you make a wise use of the 
all important opportunity — if your free constitution 
should be sacredly maintained — if honour, if patriot- 
ism, if union, and brotherly love should prevail, with 
all the good qualities which ennoble the character of 
nations — then the victory will be sure: your triumph 
will be complete : and the pressure of the present 
difficulties, instead of weakening will give a firmer 
tone to the federal government, that shall probably 
immortalize the blessings of liberty to our children 
and children's children. 

Then rouse ! my generous countrymen, rouse ! 
and, filled with the awfulness of our situation, with 
the glorious spirit of '76, rally around the sacred 
standard of your country. As good children give 
her all your support. Respect her authority !— 
comply with her laws ! acquiesce in her measures ! 
Thus cemented by love, she shall become like the 
■»recious wedge of Ophir that defies the furnace ; and 
^.oming forth from the fiery trial brighter than ever, 
she shall shed on the cause of freedom, a dignity and 
iustre which it never enjoyed before; a lustre which 
cannot fail to have a favourable influence on the 
rights of man. Other nations, finding from your 
example, that men are capable of governing them- 
selves, will aspire to the same honour and felicity. 
Great and successful struggles will be made for 
hberty. Free governments (the pure mothers of 
nations,) will at length be established. Honouring 
all their virtuous children alike, jealousies and hatreds 
v/ill cease, and cordial love prevail, inviting the 
industry of all, the blessing of plenty will be spread 
abroad, and shameless thefts be done away. And 
wisdom and worth (as in the choice of a free people) 
being called to high places, errors will be rare. 
Vices, ashamed, shall hide their odious heads, 
cruelties r.ocm abhorrent, and wars unknown- Thu<? 
21 20 



842 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 

step by step progressing in virtue, the world \vil\ 
ripen for glory, till the great hour of her dissolution 
being come, the ready archangel shall lift his trum- 
pet, and sound her knell. The last refining flames 
shall then kindle on this tear-bathed, blood-stained 
globe, while from its ashes a new earth shall spring, 
far happier than the first. There, freed from all 
their imperfections, the spirits of good men, (the only 
true patriots,) shall dwell together, and spend their 
ever brightening days in loves and joys eternal. 

May the Great Founder of your holy republic 
keep you all under his divine protection ; incline 
your hearts to cultivate a spirit of cheerful subordi- 
nation to government; to entertain a brotherly affec- 
tion and love for one another ; and finally dispose 
you all to do justice ; to love mercy ; and to demean 
yourselves with that charity, humility, and pacific 
temper of mind, which were the characteristics of 
the Divine Author of our blessed religion ; without 
an humbxC imitation of whose example, in these 
things, we can never hope to be a great and happy 
nation." 



CONCLUSION. 



Few great men are great in every thing. But ni 
the last testament of ihis extraordinary American, 
we see some things altogether characteristic. 

When Benedict Arnold came to die, he said—" I 
bequeath my soul to God." 

When Henry Laurens, president of the first con- 
gress, came to die, he said, "My flesh is too good for 
worms : I give it to the flames ;" which was done. 

But Washington makes no preamble about his 
boul or body. As to his soul, having made it his 



LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 213 

great business to re-instamp on it the image of God, 
lie doubted not but it would be remembered, when 
Christ should come "to make up his jewels." 

And as to his body, that admirable piece of divin€ 
mechanism, so long the honoured servant of duty ta 
his God and his country, he trusted, that, though 
" sown in dishonour, it would one day be raised in 
glory ;" so leaving it to rest in hope, he proceeds to 
the following distribution of his worldly goods : 

1st. Though an old husband of 68, yet, with the 
gallantry and warm affection of a young groom, he 
gives the whole of his estate (530,000 dollars) to his 
beloved wife Martha. 

2d. Like a pure republican, he orders all his slaves 
to be liberated, at certain ages, on his wife's death — • 
lamenting, that from obstacles insurmountable, he 
could not have done it earner. 

3d. He confirms his lormer donations, viz. 4000 
dollars to a charity school in the town of Alexandria ; 
10,000 dollars to Liberty Hall Academy, Rockbridge 
county, Virginia ; and 20,000 dollars to a national 
university, to be founded in Washington ; with this 
remark: "It has always been a source of serious 
regret with me, to see the youth of these United 
States sent to foreign countries for education, often 
before their minds were formed, or they had imbibed 
just ideas of the happiness of their own; contractmg 
too frequently, not only habits of dissipation and 
extravagance, but principles unfriendly to republican 
government, and to the true and genuine hberties of 
mankind. 

" For these reasons, it has been my ardent wish to 
see a university in a central part of the union, to 
which the youth of fortune and talents, from all parts 
thereof, may be sent for the completion of their 
education in all the branches of polite and useful 
learning, and especially of politics and good govern- 
ment ; and also that, by associating with each other, 
and forming friendships in early life, they may be 



2\{ LIFE OF VVASrnNGTON. 

enabled to free themselve;? from those local preju 
dices and state jealousies^ which are never-failing 
sources of disquietude to the pubUc mind, and preg- 
nant with mischievous consequences to this country." 
4th. Having no children, he bequeaths the whole 
of his estate, a few legacies excepted, to the children, 
23 in number, of his brothers and sister; and, like a 
generous and affectionate relative, he gave to the 
cliildren of his half brother, Augustin, equally as to 
those of his own brothers. And, 'tis ?,, most pleasing 
fact, he gave to his wife's grand-children in like 
liberal measure with his own nieces and nephews ! 
the part given to each has been computed at 20,000 
dollars. 



fiflHIS. 



J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 



LIPPINCOTT'S 

PRONOXTNCING 

yjZEmil OP THE WORLD, 

OR, 

GEOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY, 

Comprising nearly 2200 Pages, including a greater amount^ of mat- 
ter than any other single volume in the English Language ; giving a 
description of nearly One Hundred Thousand Places, toith 
the correct Pronunciation of their Names, being 
above 20,000 more Geographical Notices than are 
found in any other Gazetteer of the World. 

EDITED BY J. THOMAS, M.D., and T. BALDWIN, 

Assisted by several other Gentlemen. 



TESTIMONIALS. 

From the Ron. Edward Everett. 

"This work has been evideiitlv prepared with sreat labor, and as far as 1 can judg^ 
from the best materials and sources of information. . . . Tlie principles adopted 
in ascertaining the pronunciation of proper names (as staled in the Introduction) 
ap[)ear to me correct. This is a matter attended with some difficulty and uncer- 
tainty, but It is treated with great ability, and in a very satisfactory manner, m youi 
Introduction. 1 have no doubt your Gazetteer will be found an extremely useful 
work, well calculated to supply a want which must have been severely felt by alm.'>st 
every class of readers." 

From J. E. Worcester, L.L.D., Author of Worcester's Critical Dictionary. 

'• Havins made some examination of ' Lippincolt's Pronounciiier Gazetteer,' more 
particularly in relation to Pronunciation, 1 take pleasure in expressing a concurrence, 
generally, in what is said by the Hon. Edward Everett, of the value and excellence 
of the work Tne difficult subject of the pronunciation of geographical names ap- 
pears to me to have been attended to with great care, good taste, and sound judg- 
ment; and this feature of the Gazetteer must add greatly to its value." 
From the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop. 

" I know of no Gazetteer so complete and comprehensive. ... I entirely con- 
cur with Kr. Everett in the opinion he has pronounced of the work, and sir.cerely 
hope that it may receive an amount of public patronage in some degree conimenstt- 
rute with the magnitude and costliness of the undertaking." 
From Washington Irving. 

'• 1 fully concur with the opinions given by Mr. Everett and Mr. Winthrop of ita 
merits, and with their wishes for its wide circulation " 

Frnm Prof. C. A. Goodrich, of Yale College, Editor of 'Revised EdUion' of Wdt- 
ster's Dictionary. 

~ Your Pronouncing Gazetteer of the World appears, from the examination I havj 
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■ 1 iiavo tormea a very high opinion of the merits of your Complete nnnounciuf 
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